


Shut Up and Dance (With Me)

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-22 16:26:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30041463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: Dance AU.-Aaron exhales through his nose and glances at them too, watches Andrew and the new guy twist and slip and slide around each other. Shift apart and come back together. Taking space but never closing it. He’s surprised the stranger can keep up with Andrew’s relentless pace, with the aggression behind every move. Andrew’s invading his space and the guy gives but he’s letting him rather than submitting. Shifting his own movement around Andrew’s lead.
Relationships: Kevin Day/Aaron Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 15
Kudos: 67





	Shut Up and Dance (With Me)

**Author's Note:**

> I told Jax I’d write him a short fic as essay motivation but then we came up with a really good AU and I spiralled. So. This isn’t done but I still wanted to post for his deadline.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, Jax 😌  
> And I’m once again apologising for my side dish of KevAaron turning into a heaped serving ahxhdh  
> Also I only specified a few of the songs so you can choose your own soundtrack for most of the dances 👀
> 
> Title from Shut Up and Dance by Walk The Moon  
> Full disclaimer: I don’t know anything about dance and it really shows. I am fully winging it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from I Bet That You Look Good On The Dancefloor by Arctic Monkeys
> 
> Content warnings:  
> Drug and alcohol use  
> Reference to past abuse (physical/emotional/verbal)  
> Mentions of self harm/self harm scars  
> Reference to anxiety attacks

The place is silent except for Neil’s breathing, the sound of his feet over debris covered ground, old vines and dead leaves rustling beneath his sneakers as he bounds down the hallway of the deserted house. His hands press to the wall, back arching, then he turns and presses his back to the wall instead, sinks into a deep squat. His hips roll forward in a curve and his chest follows, shoulder blades pressing into the wall until they’re not anymore, body thrown forward. His hands land between the leaves and he kicks off, feet through the air as he somersaults. Lands with a soft thud. No soundtrack, just the hard beat of his heart in his chest and the music in his head.

His exhale is a harsh sound as he twists his body, twirls three times in quick succession, bows back into a deep backbend, palms against the ground. He stays there for a moment, shifts some tenseness out of his shoulder, then rolls back up into his own rhythm. His hips move and the rest of him follows, part freestyle technique, mostly instinct. He’s picked up what he can from observing over the years, but he’s self taught, follows what feels good rather than any set style. 

Neil shouldn’t be here. Being on the run doesn’t really leave a lot of space for hobbies. They’re a luxury. However, being on the run _does_ leave a lot of long stretches of nothingness, and Neil is pent up energy and boredom. It’s a risk to do this; even sticking to old, abandoned buildings, empty warehouses, decrepit lots the way he does. It’s why he can’t have music as he dances; always straining his ears to try and catch footsteps over the thudding of his own heart. It’s why he has to teach himself.

So yeah, he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be indulging in luxuries runaways can’t really afford, but dance is a _passion_ to him. Animal instinct gives him a drive to survive, but dance gives him something to _live_ for. Even if it’s only like this. Even if it’s only hidden and alone. When his heart is beating hard in the base of his throat and his body is thrumming with endorphins, these are the few times he actually feels alive. 

Neil leaps and sprints to the base of the hallway. He jumps and kicks off the wall, tucks his knees and flips backwards, lands clean and turns sharply, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. His chest is heaving with each breath, but his head feels light, his nerves feel alight, body tingling all over. He sucks in air and pushes a hand through his damp hair, pushes it back. The dark brown looking black with moisture. 

“Fuck,” Neil whispers, more exhale than word. He stretches out, all the while straining his ears for any hint of sound that shouldn’t be there. Always alert. Always on guard. He needs to make it back before his mother returns from running errands or he’ll end up paying for his indulgence, but even as the endorphin rush ebbs and slides away, he doesn’t regret it.

He never does.

*

Neil glances over his shoulder, but the alley is as deserted as it was the last few times he’s looked. He swallows, hands shoved deep in his hoody pockets, and quietly pads further down. The alley opens up to a darkened area tucked beneath an overpass bridge. Hidden in the shadow of one of the support pillars is a door, leading to a staircase, guiding the way down to an open tunnel. Neil jogs down, and the end of the tunnel opens into a large indoor room. 

Neil sucks in an impressed breath at the sheer _size_ of it all. An underground space, football field sized, maybe more. The bass reverbs up through his soles as he steps into the room. The room is loud with music, the air hazy with smoke and flashing lights. Off to one corner are a collection of poles, a few of them occupied, dancers twisting and contorting in graceful shows of strength. Across from them is a collection of aerial silks and hoops, which Neil stares at, a little slack jawed. He’s never had access to this kind of thing before, but watching someone spiral their way down from the sky held only by a line of silk makes his heart flutter excitedly with the _want_ to try it.

That’s not what he’s here for, though. He’s here to watch. Not to be seen. He tugs his hood up a little firmer, presses his knuckles briefly to his lips, and slips into the crowd. There’s patches of people dancing more loosely, club style, bodies bouncing and swaying and grinding together. The far end of the room has a large space encircled by a crowd where people can perform. Neil gravitates towards it, drawn in by a man who is all long limbs, dark hair and dark skin, graceful fluid movement as he twirls a curvy blonde. The woman is grinning fiercely. The man’s expression is intense singular focus, and a shiver runs through Neil at the sight of it. He wonders if he looks like that while dancing. 

The man tosses his partner and she turns in the air. He flips after her, way more graceful than Neil would expect someone of his size to be. They both move like gravity doesn’t apply to them. The girl bends back, the man leaps over her. She does a backwards roll and he catches her beneath the arms, hoists her above his head. Their movements are fluid and certain, but so swift Neil can barely keep up with them. His eyes desperate to take in every shift, every tense of muscle, every slide of foot, every sway of hips. 

“Allison is fuckin’ killin’ it tonight,” someone says. Neil barely hears them through the roar of the crowd, the stomping and clapping, the beat of the music. He shuffles through the sticky heat of bodies so he can eavesdrop easier. 

“Kevin’s not bad either.” The reply comes from a tall Black boy who towers enough above Neil he has to tilt his head slightly to steal a side glance. He’s holding a shorter woman to his chest, both of them swaying a bit to the beat. 

“Psh. Day doesn’t need the ego boost.”

“True.” The man presses a kiss to her head, and Neil tunes out, disinterested beyond the identity of the dancers. He watches Kevin lift a long leg up straight, swing an arching kick over Allison’s head. She laughs, all sharp edged and fire in her eyes, turns around him and slides into splits. He grabs her arms and swings her, tosses her. She rolls and he races after her, going into a handstand and lifting her with his feet to much screaming from the crowd. Neil winces a bit at the sound, but he can’t take his eyes away from them, absolutely captivated. 

Every cell of his body thrums with _want_ and _longing_. He aches all over with the intensity of his desire. To be able to dance so freely and openly like this. To be able to dance with other people. To be so fluid and understanding in movement with another person. He’s never understood the general obsession people have with sex, but this? This makes his mouth dry, his pulse pick up. This is a kind of intimacy he could get behind. 

The pair end their dance with Allison on Kevin’s right shoulder, her legs around his neck and his hand supporting her thigh as if she weighs nothing. The cheers pick up again, and finally, _finally_ , Kevin smiles. A brief, victorious glint of perfectly straight teeth. Eyes squinting with the smile. Then it’s gone as he rolls Allison down his arm and back to her feet. 

Neil wriggles his way out of the crowd and goes to the makeshift bar that he’s not sure is entirely legal. Then again, he’s not sure any of this is entirely legal. There’s a neon sign hanging above the backing mirror that reads _Eden’s Twilight_. He gets a glass of water for his dry mouth, leans against the bar and sips it as he watches what he can see of the current dancers through the gaps in the crowd. They're good but not as good as Kevin and Allison were, and Neil ends up thinking more about their performance than actually watching.

Then _he_ steps out. Neil cranes his head when the first raucous cheers go up, because he can’t see anyone, doesn’t know why they’re cheering. Then he spots a flash of blonde hair and realises the man is shorter than him. Curious, Neil pushes away from the bar and starts forward again. He catches sight of dark clothing as the man drops from views, bounces up, drops again.

“Come on, baby. I could show you some real moves away from here.”

“Please just leave me alone.”

Neil’s gaze cuts sideways. The woman’s voice is level and polite, but she’s being crowded by a leering man. Neil skims the situation over quickly. Takes in her white hair, the rainbow pastel ends, the fact that her hands are full with several drinks and so she has no way to bat him away as he strokes her arm.

“And please don’t touch me.” There’s ice in her tone despite the politeness. Neil can hear it; a blade hidden beneath silk. The man doesn’t get the hint. 

“I’m very good with my hips, y’know?”

“Hey, she said get your hands off her,” Neil says, striding the few steps to their side. The fact the woman is just barely taller than him doesn’t really sell his intimidation, but he juts his chin up and narrows his eyes anyway. 

“Did anyone fuckin’ ask your opinion, pipsqueak?”

“Wow. Original,” Neil drawls, voice as flat as his expression.

“It’s okay,” the girl says, still as calm as ever.

“Yeah, buddy. See? She says it’s okay.” The man grabs at her arm this time, fingers pressing in, and without thought Neil throws the rest of his water right in his face. He splutters from the shock of sudden cold. Neil springs forward, brings his elbow down on his arm to break his hold, and shoves him backwards into the crowd of bodies.

“Maybe you’re deaf, or just too stupid to take a hint, but when someone says don’t touch, it means don’t fucking touch.” 

The woman appraises him with a raised eyebrow that is much more judging than thankful. Neil bristles beneath that gaze, and the gazes of the complaining crowd glancing towards the disturbance. Too much attention. Exactly what he didn’t want. What he doesn’t need. 

He especially doesn’t need the man squaring up and heading back towards him, making a show of pushing his sleeves up that has Neil fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Neil might be slight, but he’s deceptively strong, and he knows how to fight if he’s cornered. Not clean, but dirty and vicious, the kind of fighting survival requires. The kind of fighting that might result in police action if he were to get into it somewhere as crowded as this.

So he doesn’t rise to the challenge, but instead does what he’s best at, and runs.

Except there’s nowhere to go but the floor. Skidding out in front of the blonde man and blinking against the sudden brightness of spotlights as he’s met with a dead eyed expression that still manages to look furious.

*

Andrew stops abruptly as there’s suddenly a stranger in front of him. His lips press firm together, and if it were anyone else, he might lash out, but the man - barely more than a boy, so slight and haggard looking, jittery on Bambi legs - looks at him with genuine terror, eyes pleading. Andrew is not known for pity parties, but he saw what he did for Renee. Little did this strange boy know just what she is capable of, that her reservation is a choice, but still. 

She had said no. The man had touched her anyway. This kid had stopped it. Andrew can respect that. 

The boy’s hood has knocked itself back partially from his scramble to get away. He glances back over his shoulder, light catching a circle of pale blue around his pupils. _Contacts_ , Andrew thinks, before those eyes are locked on his again, and the boy begins to _dance._

For a moment, Andrew is simply stunned, frozen as he watches him start to move. Not quite perfectly timed but movements fluid, thoughtless, like he just lets the music work through him. Andrew’s tongue runs along his top teeth, tracing the start of a wide grin.

He usually doesn’t indulge idiots trying to impose on his time, but this is not a glory seeker. This is an animal in a trap. This is a terrified, desperate creature with his back against the wall. If he’s so willing to make a fool of himself, Andrew will let him, and then he will be gone, little more than a passing thought.

The crowd is unnaturally silent as Andrew starts to move. Even the man that was coming for the kid has gone still, a little slack jawed in surprise, because Andrew Minyard does not dance with other people. He has never, in his history, publicly shared floor space. He’s thrown more than a few punches at people who have tried to impose on his dances. This is unprecedented.

Then the roar raises again, as Andrew slides forward, forces the kid to shift to accommodate him. He doesn’t drop eye contact as they circle around each other, tension thick, looking just as likely to start fighting as anything. The boy absently licks his lips. Andrew’s grin, already too wide, too sharp, stretches a little further. He raises his brow, and then he drops.

He expects to trip the kid up, but he catches Andrew’s intention half a second before it’s too late, gets his legs apart just in time for Andrew to slide between them. Andrew catches his ankle and gives a tug, just to make him stumble, but he turns it into a worm, before twisting to his back, rolling backwards onto his feet again. Andrew presses into a handstand and lets his feet fall forward over his head at the same time, both of them meeting on their feet, chests barely an inch apart. The boy is breathing hard, but his eyes are bright, lively. The fear from earlier starting to chip and fall away.

Andrew lunges forward, and the boy shifts to the side, moulds himself around Andrew like smoke, but never physically touches him. The hair on Andrew’s arms stands on edge from the closeness anyway. His body thrums like a live wire.

He hasn’t felt this alive in months.

*

“Do you see this?” Kevin says, sounding appalled. 

“Yup,” says Aaron, affecting casual disinterest as he slides Kevin’s drink across the bar to him. He grabs a cloth to wipe sticky residue from the bar surface, gripping a little too tight, knuckles pressing white to his skin.

“Who the fuck is this guy? He just stumbles out there and Andrew dances with him? He doesn’t dance with _anyone_.”

“I know.”

“He won’t even dance with me in public.”

Aaron gives a vague hum, rubbing hard at the bar.

“What is he doing?”

Aaron doesn’t answer.

“Like, seriously?”

“I don’t fucking know, Kevin, why don’t you ask him yourself when he’s done? Just because we look alike doesn’t mean we share a brain.”

“I wasn’t- I don’t think that, Aaron.”

“Whatever.”

“Why are _you_ so angry?”

“I’m not.”

“Right.”

“Not any more than usual.”

Kevin sighs, and angles towards Aaron slightly, but his head stays facing the floor. Can't take his eyes off their dance. Can’t take his eyes off Andrew. Aaron exhales through his nose and glances at them too, watches Andrew and the new guy twist and slip and slide around each other. Shift apart and come back together. Taking space but never closing it. He’s surprised the stranger can keep up with Andrew’s relentless pace, with the aggression behind every move. Andrew’s invading his space and the guy gives but he’s _letting_ him rather than submitting. Shifting his own movement around Andrew’s lead.

Aaron looks away with a sigh. He’s good, but he’s also sloppy. His form is weak. If it were Aaron, Andrew would be taking the time to point out every fault. He shouldn’t be jealous of some nobody, but the fact he’s clicked into Andrew’s rhythm so swiftly is infuriating. Aaron has given so much and tried so hard and he always falls short. He’s bitter this random fuck is apparently worth the attention.

He turns his back to Kevin and the floor and their dance. Rinses his washcloth in the sink with grit teeth. Whatever. So he and Andrew will never be _close_. It shouldn’t still sting like a raw wound when it’s been festering for years. Their family isn’t normal. They don’t get to be close. Aaron just has to learn to deal with the gaping sinkhole in the cavern of his chest, wide and aching and desperate for affection.

What the fuck ever. He’s survived this long without it.

*

Neil’s legs ache. His chest is tight, his lungs barely managing to scrape air in, his pulse a staccato beat. He’s pushed himself harder than ever before, but he refuses to back down from the challenge. Keeps his gaze on hazel eyes that feel like they’re burning right through him, seeing down to the core of him. His limbs are a little clumsy with fatigue now.

The man closes in his space again and Neil’s not quick enough to retreat this time. A foot catches around Neil’s ankle, pulls his foot from under him and sends him sprawling on his back. The man goes down after him, makes it look like an intentional move, catches himself in a plank with hands on either side of Neil’s head, their faces an inch apart, both of them breathing hot and heavy against each other. 

Neil lies, frozen, staring back at him, heaving breaths, until the man gets to his feet. People are screaming and cheering, but Neil can barely hear them over his own pulse. He gets up on shaky legs, and before he can move, the man catches a handful of the side of his hoody and drags him after him off the floor. Neil struggles briefly, instinct, before letting himself be dragged along to some tables pushed along the wall near the bar. The man arches a brow at his brief struggle. 

“Oh my god, Andrew,” says the woman, _the woman!_ , that Neil got himself into this mess for in the first place. “That was incredible.”

“Sit,” the man, Andrew, says, forcing Neil into a chair beside the woman. The table also has Allison from the earlier dance, and the couple he’d overheard talking about her and Kevin. Neil feels very much like a deer in headlights under all their gazes. Or something smaller, jitterier. A rabbit, maybe. 

“I’m Renee,” the woman says. “Thank you for earlier. I was okay, but it was still awful good of you.”

“Uh,” Neil says, barely caught his breath enough to think, let alone talk.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh- Uhm- Neil.”

“He dances better than he talks,” Andrew says, dryly.

“Ignore him. This is Matt, Dan, Allison, and you’ve met Andrew, obviously.”

“And Kevin’s incoming,” Dan says, eyebrows arched as Kevin strides across to them, long legs carrying him with speed.

“Who the hell is this?” Kevin slams his hands on the table holding their drinks and leans over towards Neil, who presses back further in his seat automatically, before pressing forward to meet Kevin’s gaze with a glare.

“Neil,” he says, and it feels like he’s selling himself out every time he says it. 

“That tells me what to call you, not who you are.”

“I’m no one.”

“Pretty fuckin’ impressive for no one, _Neil_.”

“Kevin,” Renee says, that bite from before seeping through her tone. “Don’t judge us all on those two, Neil. They forget their manners sometimes.”

“I don’t think they ever had manners to begin with,” Allison says with a laugh. 

“Where did you come from?” Kevin says.

“Well, you see, nineteen years ago and some change, I exited my mom’s body-“

“Ugh. How can you dance like that? And why did you end up with Andrew? Who sent you?”

“Who…?” Neil glances past Kevin at Andrew, who is standing with his arms crossed over his chest. His expression doesn’t give much away, but he’s also watching Neil with a sharp focus. “No one sent me.”

“Bullshit.”

“Kevin.” Renee’s voice is practically chipper now. Neil glances sideways at her and feels ice cold. Her smile is a little too wide, a little too sharp, a little too similar to his father’s. Neil swallows thickly. Andrew puts a hand on Kevin’s arm and squeezes hard enough that Kevin winces, just briefly, but he steps back from the table. 

“I think he’s clear. Riko’s boys wouldn’t be as sloppy as that,” Andrew says.

“Unless he wants us to think they are.”

“Mm. I don’t think so.”

“What are they talking about?” Neil asks, confused, mouth dry. 

“Nothing important,” Dan says.

“You were fire out there,” Matt says. “Where’d you learn to move like that?”

“Taught myself.”

“Shut up,” Allison says. Neil does, but he raises a brow at her. She rolls her eyes. “No way you got that good on your own.”

“I mean, I watched other people, but… yeah.”

“You could be better,” Kevin says, and Allison kicks him. “Hey!”

“You’re gonna go from threatening him to coaching him?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Come,” Andrew says, snapping his fingers in front of Neil.

“I’m not a dog,” Neil says, scowling.

“No. You’re something more dangerous,” Andrew says, and then walks away. Neil scowls again, but being stuck with one stranger is easier than being stuck with a table full. He slips after him, where a mirror image of Andrew is sitting two glasses of water on the bar. Neil looks between them silently. 

“Twin,” Andrew says.

“No shit,” Neil says, because obviously.

Andrew hands him one of the glasses of water and Neil downs half of it in one desperate, dehydrated gulp. 

“Kevin’s right. You could be better.”

“And Kevin could be less of a prick. Either looking likely?”

Andrew doesn’t smile, but the corner of his eye tenses briefly, like the threat of amusement that doesn’t quite make it there. 

“You should come by the studio. Let us see what you can really do.”

“I can’t _really_ do anything. I don’t do this.”

“Didn't seem like that out there.”

“That was… a one off.”

“You don’t want it to be.”

Neil looks away from Andrew. He takes a mouthful of water and swallows. He doesn’t answer. 

“Thought so,” Andrew says. “Give me your phone.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Funny.”

“I’m serious,” says Neil, who has never needed a cellphone. Too easily tracked. Too dangerous. Not like he ever has anyone to talk to, anyway. Andrew stares at him, blank faced. His twin watches them from across the bar, gaze wary and sharp. 

“Hm,” Andrew says, and then snaps at his twin. “Paper.”

The twin purses his lips as if, like Neil, he’s going to comment on the snapping, but ultimately must be more used to it, for he pulls out a faded, beat up old notebook from under the bar and slides it across to Andrew with a pen. Andrew tears out a page and scribbles an address on it.

“Meet me there. Friday. Two thirty.” He shoves the paper to Neil’s chest, then lets it go. As Neil scrabbles to catch it, Andrew walks away. 

Neil gets his fingers around the paper and clutches it. He smooths it out to read the address, then glances up at Andrew’s twin. Their eyes meet for a moment, the twin’s narrowing into irritation.

“Hmpf.” He turns away from Neil. 

Taking a shaky breath, Neil pulls his hood up and tightens it back into place, then slips out of the club and into the night.

*

“Where’d Neil go?” Renee asks, as Andrew comes back to the table alone. Kevin, whose whole leg has been jangling in an outlet for his anxious energy, glances towards him for his answer.

“Kid looked like he was about to bolt, so I let him.”

“He’s only a year younger than you.”

“Whatever.” Andrew drops into a chair across from Renee. Kevin frowns at the top of his head, and when Andrew doesn’t acknowledge him, he shakes the back of his chair. Andrew tilts his head back to stare blankly up at him.

“What the fuck, Andrew?” When Kevin doesn’t get an answer, he expands: “You let him dance with you.”

“Well, near me.”

Kevin glares, because they both know it wasn’t just _near_ him. Andrew rolls his eyes and sinks a little further in his chair with a sigh.

“I was bored.”

“You were- You’re never bored enough to dance with me.”

“You’re never entertaining enough.”

Kevin’s jaw goes tense. He presses his tongue hard against the back of his teeth. He knows it’s partially Andrew enjoying riling him up, can see the crease of almost-amusement at the corner of his eye, but that doesn’t make the sting any less.

“Fuck you,” Kevin says. He hears the soft chiding of Renee as he storms away, but he doesn’t try to listen to her words. Doesn’t stop until he’s at the bar again, pressing his palms hard to the sticky surface to stop the shaking. 

“I’m not serving you,” Aaron says.

“Is it in the Minyard blood stream to get on my fucking nerves?”

“Maybe.”

“It’s literally your job.”

“You’re angry. Take a breather. Come back to me.”

“I’m not-“

“Kevin,” Aaron says, and then sighs. It’s only when he hears the exhaustion in that sigh that Kevin notices for the first time how tired Aaron looks tonight. How worn down. He wonders if he’s been having nightmares again, and realises he’s a shit friend, if they’re friends, because he thinks these things but never knows how to ask them out loud. “You always come to me with your breakdowns. I can’t deal with it tonight.”

“Fuck you,” Kevin says, hands curling into fists against the bar. Before he can shift away, Aaron catches his wrist.

“I have an offer.” He waits, but Kevin doesn’t say anything, just stares back at him, expression tight and angry. “Don’t drink any more tonight and I’ll come to the studio tomorrow.”

Kevin wants to say _fuck you_. Kevin wants to say he’s an adult and he makes his own decisions and it’s been over a year since he was leashed to someone and he never wants to go back to that. Kevin wants to bare his teeth and cause a scene and let out the aching twisting in his chest and stomach. 

Aaron’s fingers stay firm but light on his wrist. Aaron’s eyes hold his gaze levelly. Aaron anchors him in the face of the erratic storm brewing inside his head, and Kevin knows, knows the way Aaron does, drinking will only soothe him for tonight. Will only make him crave _more_ and _harder_ tomorrow. 

“Fine,” he says, curt and blunt. He doesn’t tug his arm away, but Aaron’s fingers slowly unfurl. “But I choose what we’re doing.”

“Fine,” Aaron says, not quite as much bite. His face almost shifts to a smile, but it’s like he’s too tired for his features to make it the whole way there. Kevin takes a half step back, then forces himself to lean into the bar again, forces himself to meet Aaron’s gaze and soften his expression. 

“Tired?”

“I’m always tired,” Aaron says, filling a glass with ice, as much as will fit, then filling the rest with water. He sits it in front of Kevin. Kevin wraps his hands around the glass, feels the cold bite into his palm, grounding. 

“Nightmares?”

Aaron snorts; a derisive little sound that means _yes, but I don’t want to talk about it_. Kevin holds the glass tighter. Feels the cold start to ache his fingers. 

_You should text me. I might be up. I’m up a lot, or I never got down in the first place. I know what it’s like. You should text me even if it’s to talk shit. At least we’d be filling the dead hours of silent night together rather than wasting them away alone._

“Sucks,” is what he says, and Aaron hums an affirmative. Then there’s someone whistling for his attention down the bar. Kevin watches him go. He takes one of the ice cubes out and puts it in his mouth, presses it against the roof with his tongue and lets it melt away like the words caught in his throat.

*

By the time he makes it back to the table, Matt and Dan have disappeared into the crowd to dance. Kevin takes the empty chair Allison hasn’t claimed with her feet. She doesn’t look up, too busy texting at speed on her phone. Andrew and Renee are bowed together having what looks to be a serious conversation until Kevin hears the words “- _reduced to cannibalism_ ”. He zones out, but is jealous of their closeness all the same.

He feels like he’s always jealous of something, and the harder he tries not to be, the more it burns in the pit of his stomach like an out of control dumpster fire. He pops another ice cube into his mouth. Allison kicks him on the thigh when he starts crunching on them.

“Gross,” she says. Kevin pushes her ankle away. “Do you want to dance again? Not on the centre floor, though. I’m three drinks in and if you start tossing me around, who knows what will happen.”

Kevin tenses his jaw. Self destructive energy sparking beneath his skin like a live wire. It’s not the outlet he wanted, but it will do. It will carry him across to the promise of studio time with Aaron, of no one watching, of easing the tight collar of his self inflicted perfectionism away for a few hours.

“Fine,” he says. 

“Don’t sound so excited about it.” Allison takes his hand all the same, and as she pulls him to his feet, Andrew looks up and catches his eye, something knowing there, something _judging_. Kevin flips him off because he’s irritated enough to be petty, but the brief quirk at the corner of Andrew’s mouth just leaves him feeling angrier.

*

Neil doesn’t go home. 

He reads the note, over and over, commits it to memory in case he has to get rid of it. He makes his way through the ladder grid of street lamp lit streets and darkened alleyways, a city that’s not even half familiar to him, but he’s good at finding his way. 

Eventually he stops outside the studio building. Checks the address again just to be sure, even though it’s burned into the back of his brain already. He looks up at the building. He knows where it is now. That doesn’t mean he’s coming. Doesn’t mean he _can_ come, but he knows. He can look briefly at what might have been.

And if he does a lap of the building and checks for all potential exits, well, that doesn’t have to mean anything. Old habits just play on repeat.

*

Kevin’s on the poles when Aaron swings by the studio. He didn’t get a reply to his text, had to go peeking his head through different doors until he found him. Kevin hasn’t noticed him yet, and Aaron stands by the doorway, watches Kevin swing his body up as if he’s weightless, as if gravity has no hold on him. Muscles in his arms, his legs, his torso all flexing and tensing as he moves. His expression is intense and focused, all tight and narrowed in on itself. Aaron absently chews his lower lip, already chapped and dry, before he steps further into the room.

“You know I’m not great at pole,” Aaron says, who compared to Kevin and Andrew, is not really great at anything. His love of dancing came from the freedom of it, the wordlessness, the release. Trying to tighten it into structure and form the way Kevin and Andrew do ruins it for him. He doesn’t dance for other people, just for himself. 

“Oh.” Kevin flips back to his feet when he sees Aaron, snatching a towel from the ground and rubbing it over his sweat damp face. “I was just waiting for you. Is it that time already?”

“Yeah. How long have you been here?”

“Uh. Forty minutes, I think.”

“You think.”

“Something like that,” Kevin says, draping his towel around his shoulders. Aaron rolls his eyes. Kevin alone in the studio is a hazard. Time fails to exist to him sometimes, and Aaron has found him several times training to exhaustion. 

“So what are we doing?”

“Aerials.”

“Haven’t you done enough swinging about?”

“You like aerials,” Kevin says. Aaron doesn’t say anything, but he follows Kevin out of the pole space and down to the aerial hall. Aaron drops his bag and shrugs off his jacket to lay on top of it, zooming his way across for a hoop.

“There he goes, always wanting to be tall,” Kevin says, as Aaron pulls himself up and flips to sit in the hoop.

“Fuck off,” Aaron says, swinging a little. Kevin stretches up and catches the sides of the hoop, leaning close to him. With Aaron elevated like this Kevin only comes to his chest. It does give him a bit of a delighted thrill to be taller for once, but it’s not like he’d admit that.

“You didn’t warm up.”

“I’m fine.”

“Hm.” Kevin frowns disapprovingly, but then he leans back, pulling the hoop with him, before swinging them forward. Kevin pulls his legs up. Aaron hooks his around Kevin’s waist to support him as he twists himself up to hook his ankles at the top of the hoop behind Aaron’s head. 

“Show off,” Aaron says, though there’s no heat to it.

“You could be this flexible if you stretched more.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have the two miles of leg required for that.” Aaron leans back, uses his core and his legs to swing them higher. He catches the top of the ring and slides himself up through Kevin’s legs, feet resting where he was sitting to get more momentum in their swing. Kevin drops his legs, catches the sides of the hoop, hoists himself up to hook one leg through. After he has them swinging, Aaron drops down, mirroring Kevin’s pose. Their legs hooked through the hoop press together, the point of contact between their hips a patch of warm pressure. Kevin grins down at Aaron, and Aaron tries and fails to bite back his own smile. 

“What are you grinning at?”

“You,” Kevin says. Aaron rolls his eyes and shoves Kevin’s chest, but his balance is too good, he barely wavers. Aaron pushes up, twists himself upside down, hangs with legs folded over the top of the hoop instead. Kevin jerks to the side and gets them spinning. “Is this where we Spiderman kiss?”

“Fuck off,” Aaron says, and blames the warmth of his face on the blood rushing to his head from being upside down. Kevin laughs and drops backwards, catches the hoop with hands between his thighs and stretches his legs out, hanging upside down splits. 

Aaron let’s himself spin down out of his upside down position, let’s himself drop, too fast, legs catching around Kevin’s waist so as he goes crashing down, he drags him with him. They land in a crumpled pile on the mats, and it takes a moment for Aaron to recover from the air knocked out of him. Then he’s laughing.

“You asshole,” Kevin says. “You did that on purpose.”

“Course I did,” Aaron says, grinning at Kevin’s annoyed expression. “That was just a warm up. I need to stretch out before we do any more.” 

“Dick,” Kevin says, rolling to lean over Aaron, caging him in with his limbs. Aaron smirks lazily, folds a leg up to knee him in the chest. Kevin catches his shin and pushes the knee up to Aaron’s chest, helping him stretch. Aaron holds his gaze like a challenge. “You need to come down more. Your hips are getting tight.”

“And you prefer my hips loose, do you?” Aaron’s voice comes out lower than even he was expecting it. Kevin freezes, lips parted, and it’s worth the flush that runs through Aaron to leave him fucking speechless for once.

“You’re increasing your risk of injury,” Kevin says eventually, but his pupils are blown out. The fingers wrapped around Aaron’s shin burn like a brand.

“Should probably do the other leg,” Aaron says slowly. Kevin shifts back enough for him to lower his right leg, then catches his left when he lifts it, even tighter from being his non-dominant side. Aaron makes a soft sound when Kevin pushes it up and swears Kevin shivers above him. 

“See? Tight.”

“Yeah,” Aaron says, more sigh than word. Kevin bites his lower lip and Aaron wants to do it for him, feels the base of his stomach a tight, hot knot. 

But he’s used to wanting things he can’t have.

Kevin helps him with the rest of his stretches. Aaron can do it himself, but Kevin fussing over him means he’s not lost inside his own head, and Aaron’s enjoying all the unnecessary touching. 

Kevin turns on some music while Aaron gets a drink of water, and when he stands from setting his water bottle down, Kevin steps behind him. He puts his hands on Aaron’s hips, and Aaron leans back into his chest. Not the time for words now. Kevin speaks clearer through dance, anyway. The firm press of fingertips against Aaron’s hip bones betraying the tension still held tight in his body. 

Aaron meets Kevin’s gaze in the reflection of the mirrored wall. Takes in Kevin, taller and broader and stronger behind him, but willing to bow for Aaron if asked. Kevin pushes and demands and dominates when it comes to dance, but any other area, he can be coaxed into giving ground. 

Kevin starts to sway his hips. Aaron moves with him, tipping his head back against Kevin’s chest, watching with a smirk as Kevin’s eyes take in the line of his throat in their reflection. Kevin’s expression starts to narrow in again, but that’s not what this is about. Kevin by himself or with Andrew is training, Kevin with Aaron is remembering the fun in his passion. Aaron reaches up, brushes fingers down Kevin’s cheek, brings him back to him. He turns and steps backwards from Kevin’s hold, and Kevin follows, letting Aaron lead. 

They move around the room like that. Aaron dancing out of reach before letting Kevin catch up, pressing their bodies into contact, only for Aaron to slip away again. Kevin’s eyes are bright with the playfulness of it, and the corner of Aaron’s mouth keeps tugging up. Kevin catches him again, crowding close, hips rolling. Aaron lets him for a moment, then presses him back with fingers to his chest. This time when he runs out of reach, he jumps and catches on one of the silks, climbing his way up and hooping it around his wrist as he swings.

Kevin was right. He _does_ like aerials. Likes the freedom of them. The feeling of not being held down. Aaron constantly feels like the weight of living is bearing down on his shoulders, trying to grind him into the earth. To be above it like this is liberating. 

Kevin watches him for a moment before jumping for another silk. He swings and twists until it starts to turn around Aaron’s, circling each other into a braid of silks that ends up with them face to face. Kevin takes hold of Aaron’s waist to keep him close, their noses touching. and Aaron’s heart beats double time in his chest. This is a moment where he might kiss Kevin Day, if he didn’t see how he stares at Andrew.

But he does. He always has. He knows he’s second best, and as tempting as it is to some days accept that, he won’t do it to himself. It will hurt too much in the long run.

So instead he just tickles Kevin, a known weakness, and uses his flailing as an escape to twist them apart again.

After all, Aaron’s used to wanting things he can’t have.

*

It’s a quarter past two and Neil has been standing across the street for fifteen minutes, hidden in the shadows of an alleyway, all anxious energy coiled tight. He can’t do this. This is dangerous, careless, unnecessary. His mother would be furious. 

He wants to so badly.

He turns and steps away for what’s easily the seventh time, only to circle back again, looking longingly at the building. 

Then the doors open and Andrew steps out, his hair held back with a black stretch headband. Kevin’s a few steps beside him, arms waving as he says something Neil can’t hear. Andrew leans against the wall that runs up the side of the steps and lights up a cigarette. Neil doesn’t need to be able to hear Kevin to know he’s complaining about the smoking this time. Andrew turns his head away, and his eyes find Neil across the street. Neil freezes, considers running, doesn’t.

Andrew lifts two fingers to his temple and gives a lazy salute. Kevin turns to follow his gaze, and now both of them are looking at Neil. He could still run. It’s not like they’d chase him. Not like they’d ever find him.

He crosses the street.

They watch him the whole walk over and as he jogs up the steps to them. Andrew takes a drag of his cigarette as his eyes rake over Neil. Kevin looks past him, looks around, the whole movement familiar to Neil. Checking for an ambush. 

“It’s just me,” he says, but Kevin doesn’t look settled. “Who’s after you that you’re so worked up about?”

“No one,” Kevin says, folding his arms defensively. Andrew barks out a laugh. 

“Liar.”

“Fuck off, Andrew.”

Neil doesn’t comment. It would be hypocritical of him to fault someone for being a liar. He shoves his hands in his pockets and watches the smoke of Andrew’s cigarette.

“You’re wearing the contacts again. I should have told you to take them out,” Andrew says, and Neil has to fight the urge to physically flinch away.

“What?”

“Your eyes. They're blue, not brown. I can see the inner circle.”

“I could have central heterochromia,” Neil says, swallowing around fear. 

“I can see the edges in this light, too, dumbass.”

“What does it matter what colour they are?” Kevin asks. He sounds petulant, but like he’s trying not to. Andrew drops his cigarette and grinds it out beneath his foot. He steps into Neil’s space as he passes him.

“I like blue better.”

*

Kevin runs Neil through warm ups and dance drills while Andrew watches, then they both give him the floor to freestyle. It’s nerve wracking. He’s not used to dancing for an audience. It’s different than when he was with Andrew, because then he was hyper focused in on him and their movements together and keeping up. Neil wasn’t thinking about being watched. It’s hard to think of anything but when he’s alone in a room with two sets of eyes on him. 

He feels a little claustrophobic. Closes his eyes and breathes and pretends he’s alone. Pretends he’s just slipped away for an outlet. It’s strange having music in the background rather than just the rhythm in his head, but once he clicks into the beat he starts to move to it. He twirls and flips, slides and somersaults, jumps and drops and pushes himself until he’s breathing hard and sheening with sweat. 

“You’re good,” Kevin says, but it’s as if the words are something bitter in his mouth he’s in a hurry to force out. “But sloppy.”

“Self taught,” Neil says, defensive, shrugging off Kevin’s comments.

“Right. Yeah.”

“Kevin,” Andrew says. Kevin frowns, but shuts up. “You said you don’t do this. Why teach yourself, then?”

“Bored.”

“Bored?”

“Yeah. Haven’t you ever heard of hobbies?”

“You don’t dance like a hobbyist,” Kevin says. “You dance like it’s all you’ve got.”

“Maybe you’re projecting.”

Andrew huffs a laugh. He runs his tongue along his top teeth and tilts his head towards Kevin, arching a brow.

“Yeah. I could do something with him. Doesn’t sound into it, though,” Kevin says.

“Into what?”

“Being trained. You could probably go competitive, with a bit more practice. Maybe not at the highest level, but at least regionally.” 

“Competitive-“ Neil blinks, stunned. He feels his heart do an aching shudder in his chest. A life that could be flashing before his eyes. Where he gets to _live_ and not just survive. Where he gets to do something he loves, and he doesn’t have to hide. 

That life doesn’t exist.

“I don’t want to compete.”

“Told you,” Kevin says to Andrew. “Shame, though. You’ve got potential.”

“I want you to dance with me again,” Andrew says, watching Neil with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “But don’t embarrass me this time.”

“Oh, was that why you were so red in the face last time?” Neil says, and Kevin grabs Andrew’s arm as if he’s anticipating an attack. Andrew just laughs though, rocking back on to his heels. then forward on the balls of his feet. 

“Train with us for no reason, then,” he says, stepping forward until he’s almost touching Neil. 

“We don’t have time for pointless shit like this,” Kevin says. Andrew holds a finger up to silence him. He fumes, folding his arms over his chest, but goes silent all the same.

“Why? What do you get from that?”

“Entertainment,” Andrew says. 

“I’m not here to amuse you.”

“Then you do it without even trying. It’s obvious you’re hungry for it. We’re offering free studio space, free practice and guidance. You’d be a fucking idiot to turn this down.”

 _I’d be a fucking idiot to say yes_ , Neil thinks, and then he says: “okay.” 

“Excellent,” Andrew says, pulling the zip down of his hoody and shrugging out of it. He tosses it at Kevin, adjusting the edges of the arm bands he’s wearing. “Then let’s dance.”

*

Andrew doesn’t miss the way Neil’s eyes flit briefly to the door. Like an animal cornered in a trap, eying the exit. Then Neil’s gaze comes back to him, waiting for Andrew to start, set the course, lead them. Andrew snaps his fingers.

“Fuck off,” Kevin says, but clicks the music on anyway, like always. 

“One rule. Don’t touch me,” Andrew says. “Break that, and I’ll break your fingers.”

“Noted,” Neil says, then steps automatically back as Andrew steps forward. Andrew grins.

“Good,” he says.

“I’m a quick study.”

“Be quicker,” Andrew says, pouncing into Neil’s space again. Neil is agile, shifting around him, a mixture of dodging and dancing, and Andrew feels, he _feels_ , which is so fucking rare it’s addictive. Not the constant roar of anger in his ears like the rush of the tide, or the buzzing manufactured mania from his meds, or the deep gaping aching hollowness that is beneath everything else, sucking everything into it. This is something different. Maybe the first sparks of excitement. The first sparks of something _new_.

What Neil lacks in technique, he makes up for in fast footwork and sheer enthusiasm. He seems to preempt each of Andrew’s moves, always vacating space just before Andrew moves into it. Eyes locked onto Andrew’s whenever they can, and Andrew’s skin feels stretched a little too tight.

Neil drops, and Andrew follows him to the ground, watches Neil’s reflection so he can mimic the roll, thrust, backbend, jump to his feet that Neil does. The sides of his mouth are pulled back in spite of himself, grin stretched wide, breathing hard through his teeth as he starts cutting off Neil’s attempts to shift around him, forcing him into a corner until Neil’s back hits the mirrored wall. Andrew puts a hand beside his head, leans in so close their chests are almost brushing.

“Take the contacts out next time,” he says, then laughs, exhilarated, pushing away from the wall as another song starts. “Again.”

And Neil follows him back to the floor.

*

Kevin is antsy, restless. It’s not like Andrew hasn’t practiced with him before, but he’s been trying since they met to get Andrew to dance with him in public. Andrew’s refusal has been stubborn and insistent. That he’s caved so quickly for someone new, not only allowed Neil to dance with him, but demanded he do, is a sick twist in Kevin’s gut.

They’re good together. Kevin can’t deny it. Neil seems intuitively clicked into Andrew’s wavelength, and there’s a natural chemistry that makes them hypnotic to watch with each other. If he wasn’t half blind with jealousy, Kevin might actually enjoy watching them. 

“Andrew doesn’t always practice regularly,” Kevin says. “But I’m about most days. You really don’t have a phone?”

“Nope,” Neil says, and Kevin sighs.

“That makes things harder, but you can come down anytime. Here’s a keycard. If anyone asks, just tell them you know me.”

“Why do you get free run of this place anyway?”

“Because,” Kevin says, blinking like he’s taken aback by the question. “My dad owns it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He used to dance competitively when he was younger. Since he retired, he went into coaching. Long as we don’t interrupt any of his sessions or any classes, we’re free to use it as we want.”

“Is that your reason? Your dad?”

Kevin scoffs and turns away from Neil. 

“You ask an awful lot of questions.”

“I could say the same.”

“You don’t answer very many.”

“Just because you don’t like my answers doesn’t mean you can say I don’t answer.”

“I didn’t know my dad until my teens. I picked up dancing from my mother. She was also competitive. It’s how they met.”

“Oh.”

“I only met him after she died and he took me in.”

“Oh,” Neil says again, and Kevin is glad he doesn’t go into some faux pity bullshit. 

Kevin gets a notepad from his backpack and writes his cell phone number on it. After a moment of hesitance, he writes Andrew’s beneath it. He hands the paper to Neil.

“I don’t-“

“Have a phone. I know. There’s one at the desk as you come in. This way you can phone us to see where we are. Like I said, Andrew’s inconsistent, but if you want someone to train with, I’m here most days. I won’t go easy on you, though.”

“That’s okay. I like a challenge,” Neil says, and Kevin almost likes him. A little. For a moment. 

Then Neil leaves and Kevin is left with the restless shifting beneath his skin again. He calls Aaron, pacing as he waits for him to pick up.

“Hey-“

“You busy?”

There’s a pause, a few beats, Kevin shifts from foot to foot as he waits. 

“What’s up?”

“I just- It doesn’t matter if you’re busy.”

“Kevin.”

“Actually, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have bothered you. You said you don’t want to deal with my breakdowns.”

Aaron’s soft sigh rustles across the line.

“That wasn’t what I said, dumbass. Talk to me.”

“I am.”

“Why did you call?”

“I don’t know- I… I don’t know how to word it. I just. _Ugh_.”

“Where are you?”

“Studio.”

“Right. Surprise surprise. Why’d I even ask?”

“Neil showed up.”

This time Aaron’s sigh crackles loud over the whole call.

“Are you just worked up because Andrew danced with someone else?”

“No. I don’t know. I don’t trust him. I’m-“ Kevin leans back against the wall, feeling his chest constrict. “I’m aware… it’s paranoid, but I-“

He inhales shakily. Listens to the sound of Aaron’s phone move like he’s shifting it to his other ear.

“Hey. Kevin. Riko can’t get to you, okay? Andrew wouldn’t let him.”

The sound of Riko’s name makes Kevin feel queasy. He sinks down the wall, legs too shaky to hold him, breathing uneven. 

“You still with me, Kevin?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m coming down. Stay on call with me until I get there.”

“You don’t have to-“

“I know,” Aaron says. “But I am.”

*

Andrew sits on the edge of the roof, legs swinging. He glances down between them and feels a sick twist in his stomach, feels every muscle pull taught and tight and tense at the fear of falling. Pushes forward an extra half inch anyway, just to get the dizzy rush of vertigo.

Beneath him, the front door opens and Neil steps out. Andrew watches him. Neil looks at a sheet of paper for a moment, then folds it up small and tucks it in his pocket. He pulls his hood up and tightens it in place. He looks around him warily, but fails to look up. Andrew wonders why he’s so on guard.

Neil jogs down the steps, looks around once more, and then takes off at a run. Andrew watches him get smaller until he’s out of sight. He takes another drag of his cigarette and lets the smoke coil up in a slow tendril from the corner of his mouth. There’s something burning low in his stomach, too, but he ignores that. 

*

Aaron hangs the phone up as he steps into the studio room, and Kevin turns, fingers clenched tight around his own phone. Aaron shrugs his bag off and tosses his jacket on top of it. He raises his eyebrow. Kevin nods, turns on the music, and drops his phone on top of his things. The Bluetooth speakers buzz to life.

Aaron meets him in the middle of the room, hands to Kevin’s chest. Kevin trails fingertips down his forearms, grips tight to his biceps. He turns Aaron and pulls him back against him, buries his face in the top of Aaron’s hair and shudders through a shaky breath.

Then they’re moving, Aaron letting Kevin guide him. Slow and close at first, but getting faster as Kevin starts to work his feelings out. He turns Aaron, lifts him, Aaron trails his fingers through Kevin’s hair on his way down and Kevin follows him to the floor, rolling over one another, twisting limbs, and Kevin pulls Aaron back to his feet with him when they stand. 

Aaron’s panting by the end of the second song, but Kevin’s holding pace. He’s got a lot more stamina than Aaron from more consistent practice, but Aaron is nothing if not stubborn. They pause for water as they wait for the next song to start and when _River_ by Bishop Briggs plays, Aaron looks to Kevin curiously. It’s the kind of suggestive song he might dance with Allison to, but not Aaron. Kevin’s eyes hold his gaze and he doesn’t falter, prowling across the room towards him. Aaron swallows and drops his water bottle. Kevin’s fingers graze his jaw, draw his chin forward, his own hips shifting in fluid movements. Aaron goes after the tug of his fingers, letting Kevin guide him, terrified he’s going to betray his own secret emotions.

Kevin’s lips graze his cheek, then he’s twisting Aaron, pulling him back to his chest again, only this time they’re full body flush, the shift of Kevin’s hips moving Aaron with them. Kevin’s hands run up over his stomach and chest, and Aaron’s glad, as he watches their reflection, that he’s already flushed from exertion. Kevin’s a burning furnace of heat against his back, his breath hot and heavy in Aaron’s ear, and it’s hard to ignore every point of them that’s in contact.

Kevin twirls Aaron again, hand bracing his head as he dips him. Aaron tightens his core but loosens his shoulders, let’s Kevin roll him low before he pulls him up again, presses a thigh between Aaron’s legs, and Aaron’s stomach pools with heat. Kevin’s breathing through parted lips as his hands grip Aaron’s hips firmly, as he pulls him after and against him while he quick steps backwards. Aaron curls an arm around Kevin’s neck a millisecond before Kevin lifts and spins him, drops him into another dip, pulls him flush once more.

As the last chorus closes, Kevin lifts Aaron again, but this time he slams him back against the mirrored wall. Aaron chokes a gasp at the impact as Kevin’s hands slide up along his arms, holding him in place with his hips as he forces his wrists up, eventually slides his fingers between Aaron’s and pins his hands above his head. Aaron squeezes Kevin’s hands, desperate for grounding, head spinning, and he thinks he might be developing spontaneous adult onset asthma, because he can’t seem to catch his breath.

The song ends. Kevin doesn’t move. They’re face to face, both breathing hard and harsh, chests pressing together. Aaron feels frozen beneath Kevin’s gaze. He thinks he’s gotten quite good at reading most of Kevin’s fleeting expressions, but he has no idea what this one is. 

The next song starts and breaks Kevin from his reverie. He blinks a few times, then slowly lets go of Aaron’s hands.

“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t hurt you, did it?” Even as he’s guiding Aaron back down to stand on his own feet, the fingers of his other hand are flitting through Aaron’s hair, checking the back of his head where it hit the mirror. “Aaron?”

The lump that was only a threat in the base of Aaron’s throat a moment ago swells and fills it. He feels like someone is constricting his throat, squeezing it tight, making it difficult to breathe, making words impossible. He shakes his head. He feels shaky and stupid. So fucking stupid. He keeps getting drawn back into Kevin’s orbit, but he’s little more than space debris, and in the end he’s going to burn up in the atmosphere. 

Aaron pushes Kevin back enough that he can slip beneath his arm and step around him. He can see in the other wall of mirrors Kevin turning after him, Kevin’s expression creasing into concern. Aaron tries to swallow bile in the back of his throat and it burns the whole way down. Everything is too tight, too close, too hot. He’s on the knife edge of an anxiety attack.

“Aaron, I’m sorry. I got carried away. If I hurt you-“

Aaron looks back at Kevin and shakes his head again. Kevin did hurt him, but not in the way he thinks, and not in a way Aaron would ever admit to. He tilts his head up and taps his index finger against his throat twice. Kevin blinks at him hazily for a moment before realisation dawns. It’s not the first time Aaron’s gone non verbal around him. 

“Oh. Okay.” Kevin grabs his phone and turns the music off. Aaron picks his abandoned water up with trembling hands. He takes a long drink, eyes closed, trying to centre himself. He starts, then tenses, when Kevin is suddenly against his back, fingers light on Aaron’s bicep. “Thank you. For coming down. I- I mean, you’re all right. It’s unlikely he’s connected to Riko. I just- Yeah.”

Kevin sighs, and bows his shoulders enough his forehead rests against the top of Aaron’s hair. The slow resolve he was starting to build crumbles at the first sign of Kevin’s vulnerability, as fucking always, and Aaron never would have called himself a soft touch until he met Kevin fucking Day, but here he is, bleeding heart staining his chest. He turns and lightly presses his fingertips to Kevin’s cheek. Kevin exhales shakily. Fragile but no longer as close to breaking as when he called Aaron. 

Kevin’s right hand shifts for his left, but Aaron gets it first. Brushes his thumbs along the knuckles. He meets Kevin’s eyes, narrows his own, and gives a brief nod. Kevin nods back. 

“I’m fuckin’ starving after that. Do you wanna shower and grab something to eat?”

Aaron’s smile still feels a bit like a blade when it tilts his mouth, but he nods, and his throat eases, just fractionally.

*

Neil hides the keycard and paper with Kevin and Andrew’s numbers at the bottom of his bag, rolled up in his socks. He feels intense anxiety anytime the bag is out of his sight, especially when he goes to sleep. His mother has no reason to be through his things, but the terror of her finding it makes him tense and cold all the same. 

He shouldn’t go back.

There’s no chance he could ever stay away. 

He heads back two days later. Doesn’t bother to use the phone, just lets himself in and goes exploring the hallways. Glances in at the different studios. A lot of them are identical: just open spaces with mirrored walls, but some of them are specialised for different types of dance. Neil lingers when he finds the aerial hall, still hungry to try those silks, but he walks on for now, wanting to map out the rest of the building. Committing all fire escapes to memory.

“Neil?”

Neil glances back at his name being called and finds Renee standing in the corridor. “Neil, right?”

“Yes,” he says. 

“Are you looking for someone?”

“No. I was just looking around,” he says. Then: “Kevin gave me a key.”

“I didn’t think you were breaking in,” Renee says, laughing. Neil walks back down the hall towards her and as he draws closer he sees she has a curve of dark bruising along her cheekbone. He glances at it but doesn’t ask. She catches his eye as he looks away and smiles.

“It looks worse than it is. Andrew caught me too hard.”

“Andrew hit you?”

“We spar together as well as dance.”

“Oh.”

“Did you come in to dance?”

Neil shrugs. Why else would he be at a dance studio? Renee inclines her head towards a door.

“You can share my studio.” She must notice the way Neil tenses, distrust in every nerve. “We don’t have to dance together. It’s a big room.”

Neil follows her in because he can’t think of a good enough reason not to. Renee gives him space and goes about stretching as Neil tucks his bag into a corner and shrugs off his hoody. He runs through the warm ups Kevin taught him and stretches out himself, watching Renee dance in the reflection. He thinks there’s definitely some ballet influence from her movements. Somehow she looks both delicate and fierce at the same time, and he likes her a little more, watching her dance. It feels a lot more honest than when she speaks. 

“Do you want me to teach you some moves?” Renee says, catching his gaze in the mirror when she twirls. Neil bites his lip for a moment, then nods, hungry and eager to learn whatever he can while he has the opportunity. 

Renee takes him through moves that are much more delicate and precise than his own way of moving. Neil runs on emotion and instinct, this kind of dance takes thought and consideration. He’s clumsy and fumbling at first, but Renee is endlessly patient, and Neil wasn’t lying to Andrew. He’s a quick study.

Andrew shows up when he’s getting the hang of it. He pauses in the doorway when he sees Neil with Renee, takes in the sight of the pair of them. He lets the studio door fall shut behind him with a bang.

“Hello, Andrew,” Renee says, not looking away from Neil. Andrew gives a vague hum in response and walks a circle around them. 

“Learning new tricks?” he asks.

“Trying to,” Neil says. Andrew steps closer to him and he takes a step back, automatic. Andrew laughs. He clamps a hand on the back of Neil’s neck and pulls him in close. 

“You don’t always have to jump, rabbit.”

“You told me not to touch you.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself,” Andrew says, so close Neil can see all the little flecks of colour through his hazel eyes. Andrew squeezes the back of his neck. “Still with the contacts.”

Neil doesn’t say anything. After a moment, Andrew lets him go and steps back. He grabs Renee’s chin instead and tilts her head sideways.

“It’s gone a nasty colour.”

“Right? It’s going to look vile when it starts to turn yellow,” Renee says. Andrew pushes her chin away and glances over his shoulder at Neil. 

“So, you gonna dance with us?”

Neil does, clumsy and awkward and a little behind. Renee and Andrew clearly have a few of their own routines, as well as a history of dancing together. Neil’s not in their league, but he pushes himself all the same, and when he leaves for the day he’s tired and worn down, but happy.

*

Mostly he trains with Kevin, because Kevin seems to live in the studio. If Neil calls him, he’s usually there. If Neil doesn’t call him, more often than not Kevin will find him. Kevin knows a lot, but he’s also brutal in the pace he sets, and he’s heavily critical of every mistake Neil makes. 

“Form,” Kevin says, for what feels like the fiftieth time. “You have to keep-“

“Shoulders back. I _know_.”

“If you know, then why aren’t you doing it?”

“I didn’t ask you to train me.”

“ _You_ didn’t ask me.”

“Oh, so you’re Andrew’s lap dog, is that it? You’re a bit oversized,” Nein says, and smirks when Kevin’s jaw pops as he clenches his teeth. 

“I’m not Andrew’s dog.”

“Funny, he seems to have you trained to jump when he snaps.” Neil blinks up innocently at Kevin, but he mentally notes the way Kevin’s hands curl into fists, keeps light on his feet in case he needs to spring away from an attack.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Kevin says, turning away from Neil with an irritated growl. His fists clench and release a few more times, then he grabs his left hand in his right and rubs his thumb over his knuckles.

“Why do you do it then?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing to do with you.”

“Why won’t he dance with you?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t usually dance with anyone publicly.”

“But you want him to.”

“What is this, twenty questions?”

“That was a statement, not a question.” 

Kevin looks back at Neil purposefully so he catches the exaggerated roll of his eyes. Neil smirks. 

“I’m done with you today, you can fuck off,” Kevin says.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Kevin’s jaw pops again. He takes a long inhale through his nose. He closes his eyes briefly. Then he opens them again and nods.

*

Neil’s coming up the steps to the studio when he just happens to glance up and see two feet swinging several stories about him. He squints, works out the shape of legs attached, and a moment later Andrew’s head pops between them. Neil gives him a confused wave. Andrew salutes him and then leans back so his head is out of sight again.

Neil knows the layout of the building pretty well by now. He’s never been to the roof, but it only takes him a few minutes to get the right door. He steps out and finds Andrew still sitting with his legs over the edge. Neil crosses to him.

“Is this where you always disappear to smoke?”

Instead of answering, Andrew just tips his head back and exhales a tendril of smoke. Neil stands beside him and looks down at the street below. At the people passing by, unaware they’re being watched. 

“Kevin says you’re getting better.”

“I didn’t know Kevin was capable of saying nice things.”

Andrew huffs a laugh. Neil lowers himself down to sit beside him, criss cross applesauce.

“What’s his deal?” Neil asks.

“That’s a big question. Many answers. Probably need a therapist to get into the most of it.”

“His deal with me, specifically.”

“Expand.”

“He thinks someone sent me to get him.”

“They didn’t.”

“I know that. Who’s he afraid of?”

“That’s not really my story to tell.”

“I doubt he would tell me.”

“No,” Andrew says. He flicks his butt off the roof and shakes another cigarette from his pack. “He got mixed up with a bad crew. They were good at what they did, real good, but toxic assholes. When he tried to get out, they fucked him over.”

“Fucked him over?”

“They were gonna hurt him. Break his hand. To start, anyway. They got a few fingers in before I got there.”

“You got him out.” Neil looks at Andrew with interest, but Andrew’s still not looking back. He lights up his cigarette and goes back to gazing down on the street. “That’s why he’s so loyal to you.”

“Something stupid like that.”

“Why’d you help him?”

“Why do I do anything?”

“You were bored?”

“Bingo.”

Neil follows Andrew’s gaze down to the street again. He doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t dispute it. If Andrew wants to deny his good intentions, it’s not Neil’s place to challenge him. Andrew takes one last drag and sighs like a man who’s finally caught a breath of fresh air rather than one that’s just chain smoked who knows how many. He eases himself back from the edge before he stands and dusts down the back of his trousers.

“Time to show me those new moves,” he says, and Neil grins, rising and following him inside.

*

Aaron trails after Andrew. He doesn’t want to be here. He’s been avoiding Kevin since their last session, vague responding to texts, acting busier at work than he is. It’s not particularly hard; most of Kevin’s energy goes into dance, so if Aaron isn’t bending to fit himself around Kevin’s schedule, it’s easy for them to go stretches without seeing each other. 

That should be message enough. 

Nicky’s home for the weekend, though, and wants the three of them to be connected at the hips until he leaves again. Of course, Andrew changes plans for no one, which means the pair of them getting dragged along to watch his and Kevin’s new little protégé. _Gag_.

Kevin’s head perks up when the door opens, more meerkat alert than puppy excitement, but his eyes do crinkle when he spots them. Or Andrew, probably, as that’s who he walks to first. 

“Kevin Day, you rude bitch,” Nicky says. “It’s been months and you don’t trot your ass over to me first?”

“Hello, Nicky.”

“Don’t you ‘hello, Nicky’ me.” Nicky’s cheeks puff out, indignant, and he steps around Andrew to pull Kevin into an embrace he is more a suffering passive participant of than anything. He catches Aaron’s eyes briefly as Nicky squeezes him and gives him a faux pained smile. Aaron’s mouth automatically starts to twitch in response, but he makes himself look away instead.

So he ends up looking at Neil, who is looking back at him, regarding him critically. Aaron quirks one of his eyebrows. Neil tilts his head. Maybe it’s Kevin’s anxiety rubbing off on him, but Aaron doesn’t trust this boy as far as Andrew could throw him. Which would be a fair amount, if Andrew ever touched anyone outside of him, Nicky, Kevin, and Renee, but as it stands.

Neil comes across the room slower, but he also gravitates towards Andrew. Aaron slides past the whole lot of them, rolling his eyes and going to sit in the corner. 

“You must be Neil,” Nicky says. Neil just nods. “I’m Nicky.”

At Neil’s unshifting blank expression, Nicky turns to Andrew with a gasp.

“You didn’t tell him about me?”

“No,” Andrew says, grabbing Neil’s arm and dragging him back onto the floor. Neil goes willingly enough. 

“Andrew!” 

Andrew ignores Nicky, looking intensely into Neil’s eyes like he can communicate telepathically with him. Maybe he can. Maybe Andrew has mind control powers, and Aaron’s only immune because he’s his twin, and that’s why everyone fucking loves Andrew despite the fact he’s a dick.

Aaron’s allowed to call him a dick, okay, long suffering sibling rights. 

“Aaron!” Nicky turns his appeal to him, and Aaron shrugs from his seated position.

“We’ve literally never spoken,” Aaron says. They’ve not even properly been introduced, but Aaron’s sure Neil has heard about him through the others the same way he’s heard about Neil. He’s never asked Aaron’s name, anyway. 

“I can’t believe this. I have to tell my own legacy. Shameful,” Nicky says, though he’s puffing up like he’s delighted about it. “I’m Aaron and Andrew’s adoptive dad.”

“Cousin,” they both say at the same time. Nicky grins brightly. 

“We’re here to dance, not for tragic backstories,” Andrew says. Neil’s eyes move from him, to Nicky, and then flick curiously to Aaron. Aaron glares back at him. 

“I practically raised them,” Nicky stage whispers. “And this is how they repay me.”

“Are we done wasting time?” Kevin asks, standing with folded arms waiting to start the music. Aaron bites the inside of his cheek to stop his little huff of amusement. 

Andrew snaps his fingers. Kevin rolls his eyes, but hits play. Andrew and Neil circle each other like lions ready to fight, predatory, tension pouring between them already. Aaron sees the little surprised “o” of Nicky’s mouth and huffs through his nose.

He doesn’t want to watch Andrew eye fuck the new kid, though, so he watches the others’ reflections in the mirror. Nicky warming up and Kevin watching both Andrew and Neil with intensity. Guess he got over his paranoia, then. He looks like he’d be happy to be pressed between them, and Aaron’s whole insides burn bitter and sharp. 

Andrew and Neil move past him at speed, and even without Kevin’s critical eye, Aaron can tell how much Neil has improved since the first night. He’s more familiar with Andrew’s style now, able to preempt some of his moves, though Andrew seems intent on trying to throw him. He used to play that game with Aaron, test their twin connection, but Aaron’s dancing has never been up to Andrew’s standards and it wasn’t long before Andrew got bored. Like he always does. Like everyone seems to.

Aaron worries a piece of loose skin on his thumb between his teeth, tugs his hand back so the skin peels away and sends a line of sharp stinging pain shooting down his thumb and into his hand. He wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve and then absently tugs at the edge of the wound with his fingers, peeling back more, letting the pain distract him. 

Nicky has managed to drag Kevin into dancing with him now. The two of them together at the edges of the room as Andrew and Neil dominate the floor. Aaron presses his bloody thumb to his mouth and turns sideways, but then he just has to face his own reflection, and, ha, no thanks to that right now. Aaron closes his eyes, feels the thrum of his pain in his thumb like it’s matching up to the beat reverbing up through him. 

He jerks when he feels a hand on his arm, eyes opening to see Nicky grinning down at us.

“Stop sulking in the corner. I thought you got over your emo phase.”

“Fuck off,” Aaron says. Kevin, who is close enough to hear, looks at him with a little smirk.

“You had an emo phase?”

“Fuck. Off. Andrew lives in an emo phase and you don’t give him shit.”

“I wanted to be a scene kid,” Kevin says. “Liked the colours. But emo boys were cute. Did you dye your hair?”

“No.”

“He dip dyed his fringe electric blue one summer.”

“Oh my god.”

“Shut the fuck up, Nicky.”

“I probably have pictures somewhere.”

Aaron stands abruptly, because Nicky is nothing if not easily distracted, so he’s going to derail this train now. 

“Play Shakira,” Aaron says to an amused looking Kevin

“No,” Andrew says.

“Fucking put Shakira on right now, Kevin.”

Andrew gives Kevin A Look™️. Aaron gives him an almost identical bitch face. Kevin looks between them, paralysed by conflicting orders.

“You can’t mention Shakira around me and then not play her,” Nicky says, just as easily distracted as Aaron knew he’d be. Kevin looks back to Andrew, who purses his lips, then nods fractionally. Kevin jogs to his phone and puts on _Hips Don’t Lie_. 

“My tune!” Nicky hollers. “Shakira! Shakira!”

Even Andrew stands back so Nicky can be the centre of attention when the song starts. Belly dancing is his favourite, and even without one of his crop tops on, the movements of his hips are crisp and impressive. 

“You all gotta dance too,” Nicky says, swishing his curls. Aaron smiles in spite of himself. He doesn’t think about it much while Nicky is gone, but he does miss him. He only feels the intensity of it with Nicky here in flesh and flair before him, how voice chats and FaceTime just don’t compare. So he indulges him, and Aaron’s not bad. He learned from Nicky. He’s not quite as loose and fluid in his motions, but he’s alright. 

Neil’s watching them with interest. Andrew looks from him, to Nicky, then back. Then he steps behind Neil and puts his hand on his hips.

“You lift like this, with your pelvis. Don’t move your feet.”

Nicky’s jaw goes slack and he looks from Andrew and Neil to Aaron, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. Aaron shrugs, but he’s just as surprised. It’s not just that Andrew’s touching someone. His boundary is mostly a one way street, and when he’s angry or frustrated or slightly manic he grabs and lashes out, but it’s the intimacy with which he touches Neil. Firm but without anger. Guiding without gripping. Something it took him time to build with even them, that Neil has earned in a few weeks.

Aaron kind of wants to kick him in the shin, petty as that is. He might have to revise his earlier thought about Andrew throwing him.

He looks away from them. It’s nothing explicit. It’s not even as intimate as some of their dancing, but it _feels_ like invading on something. He’s expecting to find Kevin staring at them but Kevin is watching him instead. He gives a little grin when Aaron catches his eye, bumps his hips with a little more enthusiasm. _Show off_. 

Nicky is giddy and excited when the song is over. He tries to chatter away to Neil, who is not at all forthcoming to the questions Nicky asks, but as someone who spent years with Aaron and Andrew, Nicky is very skilled at mostly one sided conversations. Aaron tries to retreat back to his corner, but Kevin blocks him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Kevin looks at him but doesn’t say anything else. Aaron quirks his brow.

“That all?”

Kevin glances at his face, then his hand, the thumb nail smeared with dried blood now. He catches his own left hand in his right and rubs his thumb over the knuckles.

“You working tomorrow?”

“No. I got it off for Nicky being back.”

“Right. Obviously. Been a while since you just came out with us.”

“Usually if I’m going to be there, I might as well be making money,” Aaron says, shrugging. Kevin nods, still fidgeting with his hands. His lips part, but before he speaks, his eyes glance past Aaron. 

“Andrew, I’ve been trying so hard to get his form right, don’t teach him bad habits!” Kevin abandons their conversation to storm over to Andrew and Neil. Aaron closes his eyes and takes a slow inhale. Whatever. What else is new. He almost wishes he smoked so he could use it as an excuse to escape this room.

“I’m stealing you,” Nicky says, tugging Aaron by the wrist to dance with him. Aaron can tell by his tone he’s noticed Aaron slipping inside himself and is trying to anchor him. He gives Nicky a reassuring smile. It feels stiff and plastic on his face.

*

Neil is flushed and sweaty, a few loose strands of hair escaping the stretchy headband Andrew gave him to push it back and curling against his forehead. They’re annoyingly distracting. Andrew almost reaches out to smooth them back, but he thinks the better of it. Stupid impulse.

He feels wound up today. He doesn’t know if it’s because Nicky’s home, extra energy to play off, or the anticipation of a night out, or maybe his stupid fucking meds imbalancing again because they never seem to last, but something is making him feel tense and hot and restless. Like there’s something coiling close to the surface beneath his skin. Something sharp and dangerous. 

Neil isn’t helping. He’s on high form tonight, used to the style of Andrew’s dancing now and falling into place with it like it’s natural for him. This stupid fucking grin across his face, but it makes his eyes all soft and creased, and Andrew can see the hints of blue shining through. It makes him feel something hot and urgent beneath everything else. 

He hates when he feels _want_ . It gives him a sick twist in his stomach. It’s tainted by how other people’s wants have always hurt him, by how anything he’s wanted, no matter how much, he rarely got. _Wanting_ is a waste of time. It’s overlapped with _disappointment_ and _disgust_ in Andrew’s head.

He wants Neil anyway.

Neil is panting when they finish, but he looks so fucking happy about it, like a dog that’s been for a run in the park. Andrew regards him coolly.

“You’re coming out with us tomorrow,” he says.

“What?”

“To Eden’s.”

“I haven’t improved that much.”

“You’re almost as obsessed as Kevin,” Andrew says, rolling his eyes. “We’re not going to dance. We’re going out.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Then don’t drink. I can give you a lift.”

“No. It’s fine. I’ll meet you there,” Neil says, and Andrew arches a brow. Wonders how bad Neil’s home life is; he guards his address so fiercely. He never seems to have any visible cuts or bruises, but Andrew knows that some scars don’t show on the surface.

“Fine,” Andrew says. “Wear decent clothes.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Everything.”

Neil frowns and looks down at himself, then back at Andrew. Andrew holds his gaze, unwavering. He does not concede, especially when he’s so clearly right.

“I don’t know that I have anything that’ll meet your high standards.”

“Then I’ll leave something at the desk for you.”

“You don’t have to-“

“That wasn’t opening a debate. Wear the clothes. Lose the contacts.”

“I’m not your Barbie.”

“I know. You talk far too much.”

Andrew can see Neil trying not to, can see him fighting down the twitch at the corner of his mouth, but then he laughs, bright and brief, and Andrew _wants_ and _wants_ and _wants_.

*

Neil swings by the studio before he’s due to meet the other’s at Eden’s. Andrew’s left the bag behind the front desk as promised, and Neil takes it with him to a changing room. Neil’s not sure why these count as more fashionable than his own clothes, when they’re just all black. A little more form fitting than he’d usually wear, but that might have been Andrew guessing his size.

He changes into the dark jeans and button down and regards himself in the mirror. After a long moment, he takes a contact case from his bag and takes his lenses out. His heart does a fierce anxiety beat when he stares back at himself with blue eyes. His father’s eyes. He shouldn’t be doing this. Going is bad enough, but risking exposing himself is worse.

_Kind of fucking hypocritical that you mock Kevin for jumping at Andrew’s command, but here you are, showing your eyes ‘cause he keeps asking, and for what?_

Neil doesn’t know. He can’t put a name on the strange desire to please Andrew. Maybe he wants to pay back everything that’s been given to him, but it doesn’t feel like a debt. He sighs and puts his other clothes into his bag. He slides the contact case into his pocket, just in case. Shouldering his bag, he holds it tight to his hip and heads back out to make his way to Eden’s.

*

Neil feels overexposed. He misses the bagginess and layers of his old clothes. He feels people’s gazes on him as he slips through the crowd at Eden’s and his skin tightens uncomfortably, the constant worry of being recognised chewing his insides.

It takes him a while to find the others. His short ass has a hard time spotting anyone through the crowd, and eventually it’s the sound of Nicky’s voice, so loud and bright and happy it carries even over the music, that leads Neil to them. Nicky’s telling some kind of story, standing while the others sit at the table and gesturing wildly. 

“-so anyway, it turns out I’d gotten my German confused, and instead of the polite conversation I thought I was having about how hot the weather was, I was just telling him how sexy I was.”

Neil comes closer slowly as most of the table laughs. Wary of interrupting. Wary that he’s an imposter intruding on their group. Renee spots him and gives a little wave.

“Hi, Neil. You already know Matt, Dan, and Allison, right? This is Seth, Allison’s boyfriend, and this is Katelyn.”

Seth barely glances away from Allison to give Neil a nod. He’s sat sideways on his chair with hers in between his legs, so close she may as well be sitting on his lap. Allison doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to _him_ , but he doesn’t appear dissuaded by that fact. Katelyn smiles pleasantly from beside Aaron and gives him a wave. 

“Hi!”

“Uh, hey,” Neil says, clutching the strap of his bag. There’s no sign of Andrew or Kevin. Renee leans back and pulls an empty chair from one of the other tables, then pats it. Neil steps around the others and sits beside her.

“You look nice,” she says.

“Andrew picked it.”

“Andrew dressed you?” Allison looks over at Neil with a little smirk. “That’s cute.”

“He said I had to look decent.” Neil shrugs off his bag and sets it down, squeezing it between his feet instead.

“And then he dressed you so sinfully,” Alison says. 

“Hey,” Seth says. Allison rolls her eyes. She turns her head, grabs his shirt, and pulls him in to kiss him deeply. Neil blinks in surprise. The rest of the table look like this is something they’ve seen too many times to be bothered by. When Allison draws away, Seth tries to follow her, looking a little hazy. Allison pushes him back with fingers on his chest.

“Give you that tip for free if you ever need to shut Andrew up,” she says, and winks at Neil.

“Ugh,” Aaron says, and takes a long sip of his drink.

“Andrew and I aren’t together,” Neil says, brow furrowing in confusion. 

“Hmm,” Allison hums, and Neil is suddenly aware every set of eyes is on him. Nicky leans excitedly across the table.

“But do you like him?”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Aaron says louder, and Neil has never felt closer to him, because, _yeah, fuckin same._

“Not like that,” Neil says.

“He’s not here. You can totally tell us.”

“I’m here, Nicky.”

“You’re not a direct line to Andrew. This is not like paper cups on string. I know you were lying about the twin telepathy.”

“You told Nicky you had twin telepathy?” Renee asks.

“Renee. Don’t you dare change this subject.”

“Please change the subject,” Neil and Aaron say at the same time. They look at each other in shared suffering.

“They’re just teasing you, Neil. It means you’re part of the group,” Katelyn says. 

“I’m not! I want _answers_ ,” Nicky says, and Neil’s not sure if he’s always so giddy and loud, or if he’s just been drinking. “Or do you not swing that way?”

“I don’t swing any way,” Neil says, and Matt spits the mouthful of his drink he’d just taken back into the glass in a splutter.

“Wait, you’ve never been with anyone?” He asks. Neil folds his arms defensively over his chest, and Matt waves his hand side to side. “I mean, that’s fine, bro. Obviously. Shit, I was just surprised.”

“But look at that _face_ ,” Nicky says. “You’re telling me no one’s ever tried to get up on that?”

“I haven’t wanted anyone … up.. on… anything,” Neil says. His cheeks feel hot. Renee clears her throat beside him.

“Nicky.”

“But-“

“ _Nicky_.”

“But-“

“What’s he doing now?” Andrew asks, appearing at Nicky’s shoulder. Despite aiming his question at Renee, his eyes settle on Neil. Neil turns his head away, willing the flush of his cheeks to cool. 

“He’s interrogating Neil,” Renee says. 

“I was just-“ Nicky starts, but Andrew presses two fingers firmly into his shoulder and pushes him down into his chair. Nicky falls quiet. Andrew comes around to Neil’s side and kicks Aaron’s chair.

“Move.”

“Fuck off.”

“Move.” Andrew kicks the chair harder, then he fishes what looks like a sugar packet from his pocket. He holds it above Aaron’s head. “Trade you for the chair.”

“Ass.” Aaron stands and snatches the packet. 

“Got sorted, then?” Renee says. Andrew nods as he slides into the chair. Kevin’s come from the crowd now too, and he drops some more of the sugar looking packets on the table. Neil watches as the others grab and open them, as they dip damp fingers in and spread the contents along their gums.

Then there’s a cold touch to his hot cheek and Neil flinches away. He turns his head to see Andrew’s raised eyebrow. He clamps his other hand on the back of Neil’s neck and pulls him closer, pressing his knuckles to Neil’s cheek again. His hands are cold like he’s been outside. 

“There they are,” Andrew says quietly, staring into Neil’s eyes. Neil resists the urge to squirm beneath that stare. Then Andrew drags his gaze down over him, assessing. “Much better.”

Andrew holds him in place for a moment, and Neil doesn’t move, barely breathes. Then he leans backs. Despite his cold touch, Neil thinks his face feels even warmer.

*

Aaron tears the cracker dust packet open and leans forward to let Katelyn have the first swipe. She licks her pinkie and dips it in daintily, throwing a smile over her shoulder at him. He bumps his forehead to her temple before he stands and dips his own finger in. Which is when Kevin materialises beside him.

“You want some?” Aaron asks. Kevin looks contemplative for a moment, before nodding. Aaron starts to offer him the packet, but Kevin takes his wrist and sucks the crystals from Aaron’s fingers . Aaron’s brain shuts down for a few seconds. “What the fuck, Kevin?”

“What?”

Aaron shakes his head.

“You asked me.”

“I- whatever,” Aaron says, emptying the rest of the packet into his mouth. He fucking needs it after that. 

“Kevin, come help me carry drinks,” Nicky says, grabbing his arm and dragging him off. Aaron takes Nicky’s empty seat and leans in close to Katelyn.

“Did you see that?” he hisses.

“Did I? I had front row seats to that show.”

“What is he doing? He has to know, right? No one is that oblivious.”

“Eh.”

“...Yeah.” Aaron sighs and let’s his forehead fall against Katelyn’s shoulder. She reaches up and scratches the back of his hair, nails tracing his skull in a way that sends a shiver through him. He bats her hand away. “I’m suffering and you’re gonna fuck with me too?”

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s just so easy, and you’re so cute when you get all flustered.” 

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“This is why we broke up.”

“If you need to tell yourself that to sleep at night.”

“I hate him.”

“Yeah. That’s not true either,” Katelyn says softly, and this time when she strokes his hair she doesn’t use her nails.

“Aaron! Get out of my chair,” Nicky says, coming through the crowds with his hands full. Kevin comes behind him, also laden with drinks. He leans past Aaron to set them on the table and all Aaron can smell is his cologne. He shifts off the chair and away from Kevin.

“All yours,” he says, and Nicky sits. Kevin steps around him and holds a glass out to Aaron. Aaron looks at the drink for a moment before taking it. “Thanks.”

“Course,” Kevin says, and then they're just awkwardly staring at each other.

“Aaron,” Katelyn says, grabbing his wrist as she stands. “Come dance with me. It’s been forever.”

She drags him away from the table and into the crowd and Aaron loves her so much. He adores her. He would die for this woman.

“Thank you,” he says, and Katelyn smiles at him.

“Honestly just sparing myself being in your awkward zone, but hey. Let’s put on a show for him.”

“What? No.”

“Come on.”

“He’s not even gonna be watching us. He’s probably talking to Andrew.” 

“Then don’t think about him. Just dance with me,” Katelyn says, looping an arm around Aaron’s neck.

“Ugh. Hold on,” Aaron says, and downs his drink. Katelyn’s laughs.

“You could have set it down.”

“Nah,” Aaron says, abandoning the glass on the nearest table before he pulls Katelyn closer by the waist. “That’s weak.”

“Alcohol poisoning is weak.”

“If I get alcohol poisoning from one drink, I deserve it,” Aaron says, starting to sync his movements with the music. 

“Shut up.”

“And dance with you?”

“Yes,” Katelyn says, laughing around it.

*

Kevin sinks into Katelyn’s seat and watches her tug Aaron away with a feeling of loss he doesn’t understand. Then he turns to Andrew, sitting so close to Neil their legs are almost touching. 

“Are those drugs?” Neil asks. Andrew tilts his head.

“Do you want some?”

“I don’t do drugs.”

“You don’t do a lot,” Andrew says, and Neil scowls. 

“It’s a short lived high. Non addictive, easy come down,” Kevin says. “I wouldn’t let them do anything harder with training.”

“Bold of you to think I need you to _let_ me do anything,” Andrew says, and Neil smirks. 

“It’s okay, Neil. I’m teetotal, too,” Renee says. “We can be the voices of reason.”

“I doubt being sober is enough to qualify Neil for that role,” Kevin says, and Neil flips him off. Renee takes one of the glasses from the middle of the table and sits it in front of Neil.

“Soda,” she says. 

“Thanks. Do you all dance together?” Neil asks, glancing around the table. It’s Dan who answers him.

“Sometimes,” she says, lounging back against Matt’s side. “We do our own things, but if we’re going to dance offs or group competitions, we dance together.”

“Are you joining?” Matt asks. “We could get you a hoody printed.”

“A hoody?”

“Don’t,” Andrew says. 

“Yeah, we all have fox hoodies. They’re adorable,” Dan says.

“They’re stupid,” Andrew says.

“They’re comfortable,” Renee counters.

“Unnecessary,” Kevin says. “We should have just got plain ones. The ears and paws and little bobbles on the strings are just distracting.” 

“Why foxes?” Neil asks.

“‘Cause we’re the Foxes, man,” Matt says.

“Why?”

“We’re slick, nimble, quick on our feet,” Dan says. 

“We went through a load of animals and that’s the only one everyone agreed on,” Allison clarifies. 

“Plus, Kevin’s old crew were named after birds, so we thought it was fitting to have something that could eat them.”

Kevin tenses at the mention to his past. He lifts his own glass and takes a drink. The dust is starting to hit, taking the edge from his anxiety, but it still bristles through him. 

“Which birds?” Neil asks, and Kevin turns away from the conversation, hiding his expression, watching Aaron and Katelyn laugh as they dance, bodies pressed close together. He frowns. Wonders if they're rekindling their old relationship. Blames the flush of his cheeks and the twist in his stomach on Dan saying: “Ravens.”

“Dicks,” Andrew says. Kevin still doesn’t look back to the table. 

“So we could get you a hoody,” Matt says.

“I, uh. I’m not interested in competing,” Neil says.

“That’s a shame. We’ve heard you’re really good,” Dan says. “And it’s not often Kevin admits that about other people.”

“Fuck off,” Kevin says, finally looking back with a glare. Dan grins and pokes her tongue through her teeth at him. Kevin stretches a lanky leg to kick her under the table but gets Matt instead.

“Ow. Hey.”

“Pass that on for me.”

“I’m not gonna kick my bae,” Matt says, pressing a kiss to Dan’s temple. She grins and wiggles closer to him, then neatly kicks Kevin in the shin.

“Bitch.”

“Wanker.”

“Dick.”

“Asshole.”

“Elbow,” Nicky says as he gets back from the bathroom, and they both look at him. “Are we not naming body parts?”

Dan laughs. Kevin rolls his eyes. He looks back to Aaron and Katelyn as she slut drops him, exaggerating her movements to make Aaron laugh. He is, head tipped back, eyes squinted closed, teeth catching the light. Kevin rubs his right thumb over his left knuckles and swallows down the strange bitter feeling in his throat.

*

Andrew is trying very hard not to look at Neil, because every time he catches sight of those bright blue eyes, cold and clear as a lake on a cool morning, he can’t look away, and it’s infuriating. This is not helped by the fact that every time he does steal a glance, Neil is staring back at him.

“You have a bit of a staring problem,” Andrew says.

“Do I?” 

“Yes.” He reaches out and pushes Neil’s face away. Neil laughs, then glances sideways at him through his lashes, and Andrew’s stomach does a familiar dizzying twist. The same kind of shift he feels when he leans over the edge of the roof. 

“It’s only a problem if you think it is,” Neil says.

“It’s creepy,” Andrew says, flat and unimpressed. Neil does look away then, and Andrew kind of wishes he hadn’t said anything. 

“You’re the one that wanted to see my eyes,” Neil says, voice soft but a little coy. 

“And I’ve seen them now.”

“Cool. I can put my lenses back in.” Neil pulls out a contact lense case. Andrew snatches it from him, watches with interest as Neil’s expression shifts briefly to panic. “Hey. Give me that.”

Neil reaches to grab for it but stops before touching Andrew. 

“I’ll give them back at the end of the night,” Andrew says, tucking the case into his own pocket. Neil frowns, but after a moment he draws his hands back into his own space. He’s pouting. A curve to lips that have no right to look that soft. Andrew rubs his thumb along his own lower lip, chapped and dry. “Kicked puppy look doesn’t work on me.”

“What does?” Neil asks, in a dangerously low voice that makes Andrew _feel_ things, and he’s felt more than three fucking feelings this night already, more than he sometimes gets in a week. Shit is exhausting. Cancel his subscription immediately. At least there’s safety in apathy.

“I don’t just hand that information out.”

“Shame.”

“They're totally flirting,” Nicky whispers to Allison, except Nicky has never in his life mastered the art of whispering, especially not tipsy Nicky. So what he actually does is whisper shout this to Allison. Andrew sends him a cold glare. 

“It had better not be me you’re gossiping about,” Andrew says, tracing the line of the knife inside his arm band clearly enough for Nicky to see.

“Me? I would _never_.”

“Mhm.”

“I just meant… Aaron and Katelyn,” Nicky says. It’s an unconvincing lie, but the mention of _her_ has Andrew frowning in irritation.

“Are they… not already dating?” Neil asks. 

“They used to date,” Renee says.

“Oh. They just looked really close.”

“I think it’s nice they managed to keep their friendship,” Renee says, and Andrew scoffs.

“You don’t?” Neil asks.

“She was never good enough for him,” Andrew says.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why wasn’t she good enough?”

“She just wasn’t.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“I don’t have to justify myself to you,” Andrew says, scowling. Renee looks amused by this exchange. That makes him angrier. Neil turns to Renee instead.

“Did she do something?”

“No. Andrew’s just overprotective. Katelyn’s lovely.”

“Renee.” Andrew’s eyes narrow.

“I won’t pretend not to like her just because you don’t, Andrew. I still think you should give her a chance.”

Andrew says nothing. He folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair.

Aaron and Katelyn come back to the table shortly after, flushed and laughing together, and Andrew hates her. Hates the casualness with which she touches Aaron. Hates the way he looks at her like she’s dotted the fucking stars in the sky, like she’s better than him. He huffs through his nose and looks away from them, finds Neil watching him, those bright blue eyes wide and curious.

“Staring,” Andrew says, and pushes his face away again.

*

Allison drags Seth up to dance, and Matt and Dan follow them, so Katelyn and Aaron drop into two of the empty chairs. Aaron realises a second too late Katelyn’s purposefully chosen the chair that leaves him directly across from Kevin. He sends her a side glare. She pretends she doesn’t see.

He’s not sure what conversation they interrupted, but a lull falls over the table as they sit. Aaron glances at Nicky, who refuses to meet his gaze, to Andrew, who simply gives him his resting bitch face in return, and finally to Renee, because he doesn’t want to look at either Kevin or Neil. Renee gives him a smile.

“Are you doing any more gigs soon, Aaron?”

“Nothing planned,” he says, a little tension still in his shoulders from the silence.

“Gigs?” Neil glances across at him. Aaron purses his lips.

“Aaron plays music,” Katelyn says. “He’s amazing!”

“I’m alright.”

“He’s really good,” Renee says, nodding. “His voice is beautiful.”

Aaron flushes. He was raised on harsh criticism, sharp edged insults, words intended to cut and scar. He never learned how to accept praise. He feels awkward and unsure how to respond when people are nice to him. Something presses against his leg, and he glances up to see Kevin give him a soft, reassuring smile. 

“Yeah, Aaron’s amazing,” Kevin says, and Aaron flushes even deeper. He kicks Kevin. 

“He does open mic nights sometimes,” Renee says. 

“And you can totally follow him online. Do you have your phone? I’ll show you,” Katelyn says.

“I don’t have a phone,” Neil says, at the same time Andrew says: “He doesn’t have a phone.”

“Jinx,” Nicky says, but neither of them acknowledge him.

“Oh.” Katelyn slumps back in her seat, but Aaron doesn’t mind. He doesn’t really want Neil following him, anyway. “Well, you’ll have to come to his next gig with us.”

Neil glances at Aaron as if he’s asking for permission. Aaron carefully keeps his face neutral.

“Sure,” Neil says eventually. 

“Our little superstar.” Katelyn grins and runs her fingers through Aaron’s hair. It feels even nicer now, with the slight buzz of dust in his system. He leans up into the touch and hums. Andrew pushes his chair back sharply, legs screeching against the floor.

“I need a smoke,” he says, snapping his fingers at Neil. There’s a beat before Neil grabs his bag and stands, follows Andrew away. 

“They’re definitely flirting,” Nicky says, once Andrew is out of hearing range.

“Ugh,” Aaron says. He and Kevin reach for their drinks at the same time. 

*

Neil trails after Andrew through the crowd and up the stairs, out into the night air. Their gravel shifts and crackles beneath their feet as Andrew walks across to one of the other bridge pillars, shaking a cigarette out of his pack as he goes. He pops it between his lips as he fishes out his lighter, turning to lean back against the pillar as he lights up. He slides his lighter back into his pocket and purposefully looks at Neil’s bag.

“You could have left that inside.”

“Rather keep it on me.”

“Kevin would have watched it.”

Neil shrugs, shifting where his bag is resting against his hip. Andrew takes a drag and breathes out smoke.

“What are you hiding?”

“Me?” Neil’s heart beats hard. “Nothing.” 

“Bull. Shit. I told you something. You owe me one.”

“I mean, you told me Kevin’s history. That’s not really a debt to you.”

Andrew raises his eyebrows. He flicks ash from the end of his cigarette. Neil holds his gaze levelly. 

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Why don’t you like anyone touching you?”

“Veto.”

“You’re vetoing my first question?”

“It’s a big fucking answer and I don’t think you’re willing to give me as much back. So yeah. Veto.”

“Fair,” Neil says, because he knows he can’t afford to give Andrew much of the truth. 

“Next question.”

“Hmm.”

“Tick tock.”

“You didn’t say I had a time limit.”

“I assumed you’d pick something tonight.”

“I’m trying to think of something.”

“You and thinking don’t really go together, do you?”

“Not really,” Neil says. The corner of Andrew’s eye twitches in that almost amused way. He looks over Andrew, eyes landing on the arm bands. Neil thought they were for dancing at first, but he’s never seen Andrew without them. “Am I allowed to ask about those?”

“They’re so people can tell me and Aaron apart.”

“Oh. Really?”

“That’s what I tell people,” Andrew says, tilting his head as he regards Neil.

“Is it the truth?”

Andrew flicks his butt away and reaches for the top of his left arm band. His eyes are on Neil as he slowly rolls it down. Neil holds his gaze for a moment, then looks down at his forearm as Andrew steadily reveals line after line of scar tissue. Some of them are fading, old wounds, light or white in colour. A lot of them are still raised, dark and angry. Andrew keeps rolling the band until it’s halfway down his arm, revealing the top of a knife as well. 

“Answer your question?” 

“Kind of gave me more, if I’m honest.”

“Tough. Why’re you carrying your bag around with you?”

“My stuff’s in it.”

“Stuff?”

“Clothes, belongings.”

“Are you homeless?”

“That’s another question.”

“I’ll trade you.”

“What’s the knife for?”

“Protection.”

“I’m not homeless. How old are these?”

“Mostly? Very. Why do you wear contacts?”

“To change my eyes. Why?”

“Because it was easier to hurt on the outside than the inside, and it was a kind of pain I could control.”

“That’s deep.”

“Fuck off. What do you change your eyes for?”

“Veto.”

“Oh, that’s how it is?”

“What, only you can veto?” Neil smirks. His skin feels like it’s buzzing. There’s a quiet ringing in his ears. He’s trembling a little, high on adrenaline at the risk of sharing so much of himself, of being so _honest_ for once. 

“No.” Andrew rolls his arm band back into place again and steps into Neil’s space. Neil feels the little distance between them like sparking static. Every inch of him is tense and alert. “Why won’t you compete with us?”

“I don’t-“

“Don’t lie to me. It’s not that you don’t want to. The desire is written on your face every time we ask. The _hunger_ is in your eyes. You’re desperate for this, but you keep saying no.”

“I can’t say yes.”

“Why not?”

“That’s two questions.”

“That was only a half answer.” Andrew grabs the back of Neil’s neck and tugs him down to press their foreheads together, staring hard into his eyes. “You’re dodging.”

“I can’t tell you, either.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t.” 

“Who are you?”

“No one.”

“Liar.”

“That’s not a lie. I rarely lie to you. I just avoid answering questions.”

“That’s lying by omission.”

“I’m doing the best I can.”

“Why do you have to?”

“Veto. And I feel like you’ve asked way more questions than me.”

“Then shoot.”

“I’m going to save mine for later,” Neil says, forcing himself to breathe steadily. Andrew squeezes the back of his neck briefly, presses their foreheads together firmer, then lets go of Neil and steps back. He pulls out another cigarette.

“Fine. It’s a long running game, then.”

“Okay,” Neil says. He absently touches his forehead. Andrew looks pointedly at him, and Neil flusters, grips the strap of his bag instead, hands squeezing tight around it. 

They stand in silence for a while as Andrew smokes and Neil doesn’t stare... _directly_ at him. He watches Andrew’s fingers around the cigarette, then the smoke rising, and then the way Andrew’s feet shift as he leans back against the pillar again. He’s looking at how Andrew’s arm flexes when he raises his cigarette to his mouth when Andrew goes still and tense. Neil looks up at that, then follows his gaze. There’s a group in all black making their way towards Eden’s entrance.

“Do you know-“

Andrew drops his cigarette and grabs Neil’s arm simultaneously, dragging him forward. 

“Wha-“

Andrew puts his hand over Neil’s mouth and holds him in place with a hand on the back of his neck. He gives Neil a sharp glance, the _shut up_ implied, using his body as a shield as he watches the group over his shoulder. His eyes are narrowed and his expression is intense. Neil watches him until Andrew’s hand lowers from his mouth. He doesn’t speak, waiting for Andrew to break the silence.

“Those are the Ravens,” he says.

“The ones Kevin used to-?”

“Yeah. We need to get back to him. _Now._ ”

“Okay,” Neil says, stepping aside so Andrew can stride past him, and he does, power walking back towards the entrance. Andrew doesn’t quite jog down the stairs, but somehow manages to walk fast enough that Neil needs to jog down them to catch up with him. Then Andrew’s pushing his way through the crowd, and even though he’s acting calm, the fact he’s willingly touching so many people tells Neil he’s more concerned than he appears. 

Kevin’s at the table with Seth, Aaron, and Matt when they get back, the girls up dancing in a group with Nicky. They all glance up when Andrew comes storming through the crowd. Aaron’s the first to pick up on something, his brow creasing. 

“Something happen?” Aaron asks, which is what makes Kevin tilt his head.

“Ravens are here,” Andrew says, and Kevin’s next breath is rattled and shaky.

“Where?” Seth asks, starting to stand. 

“Yeah, this is our turf,” Matt says. Andrew doesn't spare them a glance, gaze set on Kevin, but Neil’s surprised when it’s Aaron that reaches across and takes his wrist.

“Hey. You’re okay,” Aaron says, and Kevin looks from Andrew to him, back again, unsure where to set his gaze. Andrew decides for him by crossing and gripping his chin. 

“They won’t touch you,” Andrew says, and Kevin swallows. “I promised, didn't I?”

“Yeah.”

Everyone’s eyes are on Kevin, so only Neil notices the way Aaron’s expression twists when Andrew steps forward. The way he retracts his hand and then folds his arms across his ribs, sinks down in his chair a little, makes himself smaller. He looks away before Aaron catches him staring, looks into the crowd instead, so he’s the one that spots the Ravens coming towards them. 

“Andrew,” Neil says, and Andrew glances up, then immediately comes to stand by Neil’s side in front of Kevin. There’s a clattering of chairs, and Matt and Seth are behind them, Aaron at Andrew’s other side, directly in front of Kevin’s chair. 

Now that they’re in the light of the club and not the outside dark, Neil can see they’re not completely in black, but black with red details. They move like a pack of panthers, the crowd parting around them, some people whispering and pointing. Neil bristles as their approach draws more attention. He reaches for his hood only to remember he’s not wearing his own clothes. 

“What’s wrong, Andrew? Kevin too afraid to talk to us himself?” The man leading the group stops in front of Andrew and speaks. 

“Thought I’d spare him having to look at your face, Riko,” Andrew says, tone flat. While Andrew’s expression is blank and controlled, beside him Aaron looks like a storm about to rage. His eyes are narrowed, lip curled up, hands clenched into fists. Andrew looks bored. Aaron looks furious. Neil glances back at Seth and Matt, also coiled tight like they’re ready to strike, but looking nowhere near as enraged. 

“As charming as ever. Kevin.” Riko leans to look past Andrew, and Aaron steps forward, silently daring Riko to try coming closer. “Matching guard dogs. Cute.”

Neil watches Aaron tense, his arm starting to rise, then Kevin’s fingers curling around his forearm. Aaron’s attention immediately snaps to him. Kevin slowly stands, then steps so he’s behind the overlap of Aaron and Andrew’s shoulders. He gives Riko a surprisingly impressive bitch face for someone Neil is pretty certain is on the brink of a panic attack. 

“So you are allowed out to play,” Riko says. Kevin doesn’t say anything, but his fingers tense against Aaron’s arm. 

“Did you just come over here to be an annoying prick?” Neil asks, and Riko’s dark eyes flick to settle on him, assessing. 

“You’re new. Who are you?”

“Andrew and Aaron’s triplet,” Neil says dryly. “Can’t you tell?”

He hears Matt huff a brief laugh behind him. Riko’s expression darkens. 

“You’ve got a mouth on you like a Minyard.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Really?” Neil grins, sharp edged. “Sounded like one.”

Andrew’s gaze flicks sideways to him and Neil can see the tense little crease of almost amusement at the corner of his eye. 

“Maybe you don’t know who you’re talking to-“

“Oh, there’s no maybe about it. Besides a loud mouthed asshole, I’ve no idea who you are.”

“Who do you-“ Riko starts to step forward, but in one smooth movement Andrew has his knife out, is grinning up at Riko as he spins it between his fingers.

“I wouldn’t,” Andrew says. “But if you really want to give me a reason, be my fucking guest.”

“What’s going on?”

Andrew doesn’t look as Nicky comes through the crowd to them, eyes glued to Riko. The girls come after Nicky, joining the stand against the Ravens.

“What are you doing here?” Dan asks, moving to stand by Andrew’s side.

“It’s a free world.”

“You know better than to come on our turf unless you’re trying to start something.”

“Just wanted to deliver a message, that’s all,” Riko says. He looks away from Dan and towards Kevin. Neil notices that while he’s been distracted, Kevin’s grip has shifted so he’s clutching tight to Aaron’s hand instead of his arm. Neil can only see because he’s at a side angle to them. Aaron has moved his body in front of Kevin like a human shield, blocking their joined hands.

“So say it and fuck off,” Seth says, voice low and gruff. Allison has come to stand by him, and Katelyn’s circled around to Kevin’s other side. Renee and Nicky join Neil at Andrew’s shoulder. The Ravens are uniformed glaring expressions, but the Foxes are a feral pack, teeth bared and hackles raised. 

“We’ve changed to your region,” Riko says, keeping his gaze on Kevin. “Just thought we’d give you a heads up. You might want to skip the group comps this year, because you obviously can’t compare.” 

“Is that all?” Andrew sounds bored. He twirls the knife between his fingers again. 

“I just don’t think you could keep up,” Riko says, voice laced with faux sympathy. “Especially with your hand, Kevin.”

“My hand is fine,” Kevin says, voice surprisingly steady. He holds up his left hand and curls down all but his index and middle fingers. “See?”

Then he curls down his index finger as well, so he’s just flipping Riko off. A rumble of laughter runs through the Foxes. Riko clenches his teeth and a vein pulses at his temple.

“You should probably fuck off now,” Neil says. “That was your message, right? So you can jog on.”

Matt lays his hands on Neil’s shoulders and gives them an encouraging squeeze.

“But if you decide to compete anyway,” Riko says, harsh glare moving from Neil, to Andrew, to Aaron, then finally back to Kevin. “We’re going to wipe the floor with you.”

“Do you get all your conversation from the cliché store?” Andrew asks, yawning widely. 

“You’re going to be a laughing stock, Kevin. You’re going to regret leaving us.”

“How about you let your dancing do the talking?” Kevin says.

“Yeah, because I’m really fucking tired of hearing your voice right now,” Aaron says. 

“That’s your cue to leave,” Andrew says, knife raised.

“Bye bye,” says Dan.

“I’d say it’s been fun, but I don’t think you know the meaning of the word,” Neil says. 

Riko stares hard at them all for a moment. The smirk is plastered on his face, but Neil can see his anger, too. The vein at his temple, the tension in his jaw, the slight crease between his eyebrows. Riko can act as calm as he likes, but Neil has learned how to read body language, and he can see when someone is furious. They’ve got under his skin.

“Come on.” He gives Kevin one last look, then turns and walks away, the Ravens following after him. 

The Foxes bristle around Neil, all of them angry and tense, but Aaron turns to Kevin. He manages to stay on his feet until Riko’s out of sight, then his legs go weak beneath him. Aaron eases him back into his chair and Andrew grabs his chin again.

“You’re okay,” Andrew says. Kevin’s breaths are coming too quickly.

“You’re not helping, Andrew,” Aaron says. “He’s having an anxiety attack. Nicky, can you go ask Roland for a glass that’s mostly ice with some water in it?”

Nicky goes to do that and Aaron steps closer.

“Move, Andrew.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“This isn’t an argument. I know how to help him better than you do.”

“Pft. Right.”

“Andrew.” Kevin’s eyes flit to Aaron. With a sharp exhale through his nose, Andrew steps away. Aaron pulls a chair over and sits in front of Kevin. Kevin gets a hold of Aaron’s sleeves and clutches tight.

“Match my breathing,” Aaron says softly, and starts taking deep breaths. Kevin’s are jerky and verging on hyperventilating, but he focuses on Aaron and tries to match him. Neil doesn’t see any more, because Andrew ushers them to the other side of the table to give them some privacy. 

“Fuckin’ assholes,” Dan says. Her eyes are bright and furious under the lights. 

“Can they do that? Can they just change regions?” Matt asks.

“You know Riko. He always finds a way to do what he wants,” Renee says, sounding the most even out of all of them. 

“We could break his legs,” Seth says.

“No.” Allison glares at him. “We won’t be as bad as they are.”

“We’re just going to have to dance,” Kevin says, his voice still shaky and breathless. They all look at him, still clutching onto Aaron like a lifeline. “And we're going to win.”


End file.
